Parvula Tempestas
by LoveThemWinchesters
Summary: Sam and Dean run into a mountain of trouble with the littlest of things …Season 4...after 4.16-On the Head of a Pin, before 4.20-The Rapture (Rated M for language) Sam and Dean don't belong to me. They are property of CW and Kripke. I just borrowed them for a little while.
1. Chapter 1

It was a warmer than normal evening in early October, Indian summer they called it, and a soft breeze rustled the field of overgrown grass. A herd of two dozen or so cattle was slowly making its way back to the barn for their last feeding of the day. The sun had set behind the horizon not long ago and the waning moon hung low in the clear sky, barely lighting their way.

An older cow was meandering behind the rest as they walked. She was tired and couldn't keep up with the younger bunch, but she was okay with it. Her ear twitched when a small, dark shape shot out of the nearby forest and headed her way. It wasn't one of the people she knew, nor was it one of the forest creatures with which she was familiar.

Her eyes widened as she suddenly felt an intense pain. Sharp claws dug into her flesh. Bess' frightened bellow was cut short as the creature crawled up her body and hung from her neck, slashing through her tough skin with a sharp object, and then through to her windpipe, cutting off her air. Her legs gave out and she fell to the ground. She knew no more as the darkness closed in around her.

A shrill laugh permeated through the late evening air.

* * *

"Hey, Sam. You coming or what?" Dean was packed and ready to go and his brother was still in the bathroom doing…something. Who the hell knew with the kid? (Well, he wasn't really a kid anymore now, was he?) Hopefully he was cutting that long hair of his.

The Winchesters had run dry on hunts as of late. It was almost as if the supernatural world just up and disappeared. That would have been all fine and dandy if it was true, but both men knew that wouldn't happen, not in their wildest dreams. There would always be some ghost, demon, or other nightmarish creature wreaking havoc out there, and it was their job to take them all down.

Nearly a month had gone by, and nothing. Not even Bobby could find anything. Finally last night Sam had found something. There was a small string of cattle mutilations in southeastern Iowa. Three farms had been hit in the last couple of months. The brothers both knew it was a stretch, but they had to do something before they killed each other sitting around in these pint-sized motel rooms.

The bathroom door swung open and Sam came walking out. "Dude, take a pill. I'm coming."

"Daylight's burnin' and I wanna get moving," Dean said as he picked up his duffel.

Sam glanced at his watch. It was only 8:30 a.m. He rolled his eyes. Normally Dean was still sleeping at this time. It only went to show how much his brother wanted to get out of there. "Give me five more minutes and I'll meet you in the car."

"Make it four and you got a deal." Dean smirked and walked out the door, car keys jingling in his hand.

The younger Winchester grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans. He then picked up his Taurus and checked the clip before placing it in his waistband at the small of his back. The number one rule of a hunter was to always be prepared.

Once he was done, Sam reached down to retrieve his bag and headed out the door after his brother. It wouldn't end well if he kept Dean waiting too long. The door closed with a soft click behind him.

* * *

By the time the black 1967 Chevy Impala rolled into Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, it was a little after five o'clock in the evening. It was a long ride from just outside of Jackson, Tennessee where they had wasted the last few days of their lives. Dean had wanted to check out New Orleans last week and they were just floating around the lower southeastern end of the U.S. ever since, waiting for something to rear its ugly head.

Less than ten minutes out from their destination, they stopped at a Snack-N-Save to change into their suits and clean up a bit in the small, dingy bathroom. Today they were Dean Shaw and Sam DeYoung, agents from the Iowa Department of Agriculture.

The Impala rolled up the driveway to an old farmhouse. Dean tilted his head and looked out the window at the house and its landscape. The house itself was fairly large and box-shaped. It was whitewashed with a large front porch and some of its shutters were hanging a little off kilter. There was a small barn-type garage off to the side which housed a car under a tarp. At second glance, it looked like some sort of classic car might have been hidden under it. (Dean would have to take a look at that later if there was time.)

Down a long gravel driveway out back, maybe some six hundred feet from the house, stood a large barn that housed the cattle at night or during bad weather. Being that it was early evening, the animals were still out grazing in the field beyond.

"How many cows did you say were killed out here?" Dean asked as he pulled the car up next to an old pick-up truck parked just in front of the house.

Sam leafed through the file in his lap. "Um, this particular farm had three killed in the last month. They seem to have had the most so far."

"Huh." Dean eyed the animals out in the pasture. Beyond, he could see a dark forest. Anything could be hiding out there. He put the car in park and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Well, let's go check this out, see what we can find. But before we go…" Dean reached over to the glove box and opened it, pulling out their stash of fake I.D.s. After a minute of sifting through them, he found the proper badges and handed Sam his. "Now we're ready. Come on." He opened the door with a loud creak and stepped out.

* * *

Sam reached up and knocked on the door. He looked over at Dean as his brother rocked back and forth on his feet while they waited for someone to come to the door.

"What?" Dean asked when he noticed Sam staring.

"Nothing. Just you seem too happy about a bunch of dead cows."

Dean was about to reply when the door opened and a young girl, who looked to be about six or seven years old, peeked her head out. Her eyes looked up, up, and up until she was finally looking at Sam.

Sam crouched down to get to eye level with her. "Hey there, little girl. Is your mommy or daddy home?" He asked politely.

The girl turned back toward the interior of the house. "MOM! DAD! THERE'S TWO MEN HERE TO SEE YOU!" she shouted into the house. A second later, she took off past Sam and ran out to play on a nearby swing set.

Sam looked back at Dean as he stood up. They both lifted their eyebrows. The girl sure had a set of lungs on her.

"Can I help you?" A man in his mid-thirties with worn jeans and a blue t-shirt came to the door. He eyed Sam and Dean and swept his dark brown hair from his face.

Dean stepped around Sam and flashed his I.D. to the man. "I'm Dean Shaw. This is Sam DeYoung. Department of Agriculture. We're here to check on the, uh, recent deaths."

The man reached his hand out to shake Dean's, and then Sam's. "Joss Weathers." He stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come on in. I'm sure with this heat, you could use a cold one…that's if your job allows it."

Dean smiled. "I think we can sneak one in. I won't tell if you don't," he said cheerfully, looking up at Sam, and then following the man into the house with a spring in his step.

The furnishings and decor were slightly outdated, but they looked like they got the job done. A little boy was sitting in the large living room watching the Looney Tunes on a small television. Dean stopped to see which episode it was, and then turned to Sam and mouthed, "Good one."

Sam just shook his head and smiled. Unbelievable.

As they entered the kitchen, Joss introduced them to his wife. "This is Maddie, my wife. Maddie, these are agents from the Department of Agriculture, Sam and Dean."

"Ma'am." Sam nodded in greeting.

"Hi," Dean said.

The young woman said hello in return as she wiped her hands on a towel. "Can I get any of you something to drink?"

"Could you grab us a few beers, and then maybe go keep an eye on Stella. She's out playing on the swings. I gotta talk to these fellas about the damn problem we're having with the cows." He took a seat at the table and gestured for the Winchesters to sit down as well.

A minute later, Maddie produced three beers and placed them on the table. "I'll be outside. Just remember, dinner's going to be ready in about a half hour."

"Sure thing, honey. Just be careful outside. Stay close to the house."

Sam and Dean looked at each other upon hearing the comment.

Once the woman left the room, Sam asked, "Have you seen something that made you say that?"

"No, I haven't, but you haven't seen my cows. It ain't natural what's going on, and it sure as hell ain't kids playing pranks. I just… I don't know. I hope you can figure it out. For every cow that gets killed, I'm losing money. And just the other day, Stella's favorite, Ol' Bess, bit it."

"How do you know it's not kids or animals?" Dean questioned the man.

"Well, I know what it looks like when an animal attacks. A few years ago we had some problems with coyotes. It's definitely not that. And kids…well, I don't think they're capable of doing that."

"Why's that?" Sam asked, taking a swig of his beer.

"There's too many bits and pieces missing. It's like they're getting killed by _something_ that only wants certain parts. Take Ol' Bess, for instance. She was missing her tongue, heart, and, hell, they even took her brain. Now what the hell would do that? Not some kids messing around." Joss sat back in his chair and took a long pull from his beer.

Sam scrunched up his face. Once again he looked at Dean who shrugged his shoulders.

Dean lifted his bottle to his lips and downed almost half the contents in one draught. He set the bottle down. "Is Ol' Bess still around? Can we take a look at her?"

"Yeah, I hauled her in the next morning. She's waiting out back. I gotta dig a hole for her and bury her. We're going to hold a little service for Stella. My daughter loved that old cow."

* * *

Five minutes later, they were standing near an outbuilding which was just beyond the cattle barn. Behind it, there was Ol' Bess, lying there, dead as a doornail.

"You can look all you want, but it just don't make sense to me. My neighbor mentioned devil worshippers and stuff like that, but something in my gut says that's not what it is. And then there were a couple of other killings just north of here a little over a month ago."

Sam approached the cow to get a better look at it. He found he had to breathe through his mouth, the smell was so bad. The corpse was bloated from sitting two days out in the heat. The gases held within the cow's abdomen made it appear as if she was going to burst at any moment. "The others were like this?"

"Yep, same thing," Joss answered. He had another bottle of beer in his hand and took a drink.

"Joss, do you mind if Dean and I speak in private for a few?" Sam asked.

"Sure, no problem. Just come on back up to the house when you're done. I have to help get things ready for dinner." He turned and started walking back to the house, his footsteps sending dry puffs of dust into the air. It hadn't rained for days. Even the corn they had yet to finish harvesting was showing signs of failing. It just wasn't a good year for the Weathers' farm.

"Dean, did you see this?"

"All I see is a dead cow, Sam."

"Well, if you'd get less than ten feet from it, you might actually see what I'm seeing."

Dean took a final pull from his bottle and walked over to stand next to Sam. He frowned when he saw what his brother was pointing out. There were deep claw marks on the underside of the cow, almost as if something was climbing the animal and holding on while it had still been alive. Dean thought it was pretty creepy.

"What the hell is that?" the elder Winchester asked as he continued to inspect the cow more closely. After a minute, he took out his phone and snapped a couple of pictures for future reference. If they needed to, they could e-mail them to Bobby.

"I don't know, but it's starting to look like something up our alley. But did you notice, too, that all of the cuts look like they were made with a very sharp instrument? Look at its neck, and then look at the cut on its chest."

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves. He approached the head of the cow, putting them on as Dean was following his suggestion.

"Dude, you're not…," Dean started with a disgusted look on his face.

"Well, we might as well look at everything before Joss buries her." Sam swallowed and reached over to pry the animal's mouth open. He tried not to gag as the flies swarmed around him. Once he got the mouth open, he saw that, just as on the neck and chest, the tongue had been cut out with precision. After his inspection of the bovine's mouth, he stepped around the animal and peered into the empty brain cavity.

"See anything?" Dean had gotten enough of a look and had moved away from the cow.

"Nope. It's completely gone." Sam stepped back and snapped the gloves off his hands. "So I'm guessing whatever did this bled the cow first, and then took the parts it needed." He stood there staring at the cow as he processed what he was looking at. "You know, I'd say it was a person that did this if it wasn't for those claw marks. I've never seen anything like them. And they're too small to be from carrion birds."

"Well, unless you're planning on sticking around for some hamburgers, let's take a look around…see if we can find something." Dean needed to get away the cow before he got sick. The smell was just overwhelming. He didn't know how Sam could stay that close to the thing for so long without dying.

"Yeah, alright. Let's go back up to the house first and let Joss know we're gonna be here for a while. I gotta get rid of these, too." He held up the gloves.

As they walked back down the driveway to the house, they passed Stella who was still playing on the swing set. Her mother was sitting on the porch, keeping an eye on her.

"Are you here to find the little man?" she asked as she pumped her feet, swinging ever so high on the swing.

Both Dean and Sam stopped instantly and looked at the child.

Sam walked up to Stella, being careful to stay out of the way as the little girl swung upward toward him. "What little man?"

"He plays near the woods. He's funny looking, too, but Mom doesn't believe me when I tell her about him."

"Stella, can you describe him? Tell me what he looks like?" Sam was all ears. If the "little man" she was talking about was what was doing this, he needed as much information as he could get.

Stella launched herself off the swing and landed on her feet near Sam. She gestured for Sam to get down to her level with a crook of her index finger. Once he was there, she told him a little more about the strange man.

"He's only about this big." She showed Sam by holding her small hand about six inches from the ground. "And he looks like he's made out of wood. My mommy says there's no such thing and I need to stop being so imag…imagina….imaginative. I think that's the word she used."

Sam looked up at Dean and his brother raised an eyebrow.

"Stella, has he ever said anything to you? Have you seen him near the house at all?"

"No. He only stays in the field, but mostly by the trees." She twirled her long blond hair around her finger as she balanced along a wooden beam that was set into the ground, keeping the play area separate from the lawn. "He only laughs…and it's not a funny laugh. I don't like him. Do you think he hurt Bess?"

By now, Maddie had come down from the porch and was walking over to them. She must have heard what her daughter was saying. "Stella, are you telling these men about the little man? What did I tell you about him? There's no such thing." She looked up at Sam and Dean. "I'm sorry. She just has such a vivid imagination. It's not a bad thing, but I try to teach her when it's okay to use it and when it's not."

Dean smiled. "That's okay." He looked down at Stella who now had an arm wrapped around her mom's leg. "You've been a big help, Stella. Thank you." The little girl smiled at him and then pressed her face to her mom shyly.

* * *

"So what do you think? Pinocchio?" Dean asked as they were heading out to the edge of the field. They had decided to forego the Weathers' property and scope out the forest where Stella had mentioned seeing the "little man".

Sam was eying the tree line in the distance. The field was large and they still had some ways to walk before getting to it. The sun was low in the sky and it was already getting dark. "Dean, stop screwing around. We don't know what we're dealing with out here. And this thing seems to make a habit of coming out at dusk, so watch your ass." He stopped walking when he thought he saw something in the distance.

Dean was about to say something about his fine ass, but checked up behind his brother instead. "Dude, what is it?" He looked into the trees where Sam was staring.

"Just thought I saw something is all." Sam started walking again, narrowly avoiding a pile of cow droppings.

As they approached the forest, the brothers slowed their pace.

"So, we going in?" Dean asked as he pulled his flashlight out of his back pocket. "It's getting late, so we're probably not gonna find much tonight." He stepped over the line from the field into the trees. As he did, the sounds of the crickets died off and the few birds who were still brave enough to be out hushed.

Sam hadn't moved yet. He continued to stand at the edge of the woods. "Dean, you hear that?"

The elder Winchester was already several long strides into the forest. He looked back at Sam. "I don't hear anything," he replied as he strained to listen.

"That's just it, Dean. As soon as you walked into the woods, it got quiet." The brothers looked at each other. Sam's eyes widened. "Dean, get out of there now!" Sam yelled, suddenly remembering a bit of lore he had come across a few years ago.

Dean didn't question his brother. The tone in Sam's voice had him turning on his heel and running back toward the field. Suddenly, there was a shrill laugh, and then something that _never _happened did. Dean tripped and fell ten feet from the edge of safety. "Shit!" he yelled out as he hit the hard-packed earth.

Sam ran over the imaginary line and helped Dean from the ground. "C'mon!" he said hauling his brother up and they ran until they crossed back over into the field. They didn't stop until they were halfway across the pasture.

"You alright?" Sam asked breathlessly when they came to a halt. He looked over at his brother who was scraping his shoe on the ground.

"Dammit! I stepped in shit." Dean looked up at Sam who was waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I'm good, but Pinocchio's gonna pay." He glanced back over his shoulder into the shadows of the trees, and then to his brother again. "Dude, what the hell was that? It felt like something stuck their foot out and tripped me." He blew out a deep breath. Dean still didn't see anything, but he knew they had both heard the laugh.

Sam bit his bottom lip, knowing Dean was going to balk at what he had to say. "You know about Elementals, right?" Sam was almost embarrassed to say it.

"You mean nature spirits, like gnomes and faeries?" Dean asked as he continued to scrape his shoe off on the grass.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"That shit's just made up, Sam. You know that." But Dean started looking at the trees with renewed interest.

"Tell that to everyone who's ever been to Leap Castle in Ireland. That's one nasty piece of work over there. But anyway, Stella said the 'little man' looked like he was made out of wood. Certain Elementals can do that. And what's worse is these things are territorial and attack on sight. They can be pretty deadly."

"So, if this thing's a brownie or some crap like that, do you know how to kill it?"

"Um, no, not really," Sam admitted. He continued to watch the trees along with Dean.

"Well, just when I thought you knew everything," Dean teased his brother. "You know what, let's just get outta here for the night. It's not like we can see anything anyway." Dean slapped a hand to the front of his brother's shoulder, bringing him back from wherever his mind was. "C'mon. We'll come back tomorrow with our gear. We still have to find a room somewhere."

Sam broke his gaze from the forest and looked at Dean. "Yeah, okay." He turned to follow his brother back to the farmhouse, looking over his shoulder one last time. Something was watching them; he could feel it.

Fifteen minutes later found the hunters back in the Impala. They had said goodnight to the Weathers' and explained that they would be back tomorrow. Joss was kind enough to give them the okay to come and go as they pleased from his property. He wanted the "pest" taken care of just as much as they did.

* * *

Stella watched from the bay window as the big black car rolled out of the driveway, kicking up gravel in its wake. "Mommy, look! The little man is in their car!"

"Stella, honey, what'd I say earlier? I don't want to hear anymore about your friend, dear."

"But, Moooommm!"


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long to find the local motel. The Wild Rose was what this one was called, named after Iowa's state flower. The turquoise neon sign lit up the parking lot as Dean pulled off the road. Free television and air conditioning were advertised. The elder Winchester parked in front of the office. "Hang tight, Sam. I'll be right back."

Five minutes later, Dean reappeared and tossed the key for room #12 to Sam. He started the car back up and pulled into the space which was reserved for their particular room. This would be their new home for the next couple of days.

Sam opened the car door and unfolded himself from the confines of the vehicle. He went to the room and unlocked it while Dean went to the trunk to grab their bags. He felt around on the wall until he found the light switch and flicked it on.

It looked like a decent place for once. The blue and white floral-patterned comforters looked fairly new and the dark blue carpet still had some pile left to it. There was even a small kitchenette off to the side which was nice. Sam went in and made a thorough check of the premises as one or the other of them usually did when arriving at a new motel; it was Sam's turn tonight. Just as he finished up, Dean walked through the door with their things.

"Sam, there's one more bag out there. Think you can get it?" Dean asked as he started dropping the duffels he already had onto the bed.

"Yeah, I got it." Sam went back outside. Just as he was closing the trunk, his stomach growled. Lunch was hours ago and he was hungry. "Hey, you want something to eat?" he asked when he got back into the room and set the last bag down on the floor by his bed. "We passed a small diner on the way in…"

"You read my mind, Sammy. But do you mind making the run on your own? I was hoping to grab a quick shower." Dean was already pulling his sweatpants out of his bag and was rummaging around for something else, finally pulling out his toothbrush with a smile.

"Sure. You want your usual?" Sam opened the door and stood there for a second, waiting for Dean's answer. He wasn't sure if Dean would be doing beef after seeing Ol' Bess today, but knowing his brother, it wouldn't bother him that much. Dean was a red meat man. There was no changing that.

"Yeah, that'll work. Maybe see if they have some pie or something, too," Dean replied as he headed into the bathroom. It had been a long day and he still had the smell of dead cow in his nose. He hoped the shower would wash it away.

"That goes without saying. I'll be back in a few. I've got my phone if you need me." Sam left and closed the door behind him.

As they were talking, neither brother saw the shadow that darted in past Sam's leg and disappeared behind one of the beds. It moved too quickly for their eyes to register.

* * *

The bathroom door clicked shut and what had previously passed for a shadow had now stopped long enough to be seen, but no one was in the room to see it. The creature smiled and giggled. It tilted its spiky, wooden head and narrowed its large, dark eyes. This was going to be exciting. He scraped his long, sharp nails along the wall as he wandered around, waiting for the man to start up the shower. The man, Dean, had walked onto sacred ground today and he'd pay for it. Actually, both of the men had trespassed, but the creature didn't like the other man. He sensed something different about the younger one and decided to keep his distance from him.

He jumped up onto the bed and walked over to the nightstand where Dean had hidden his weapon in the drawer. With a thought, the drawer slid open. The shiny gun intrigued the creature and he jumped into the drawer next to it. The gun was as big as him. If it was smaller, he'd take it for himself, add it to his growing pile of treasure back in the forest. The shiny things were his favorite. He hefted the weapon up to look at it while he gave Dean time to get comfortable in the shower. The creature jumped when he accidentally knocked it out onto the floor with a loud thump.

A few minutes went by; it had been long enough, the creature mused. He looked over to the bathroom and wiggled his nose. Suddenly, he heard the man scream as the water turned frigid. He giggled.

* * *

Dean had his hair lathered up and was standing under the showerhead rinsing off when all of a sudden the water went from nice and hot to cold and icy. "Holy shit!" he hollered. He reached down and spun the handle all the way to hot, but the water remained all too cold. Shampoo was running down in his face. Dammit. As fast as he could, he rinsed off and jumped out of the shower. "Goddamned motels and their cheap-assed water heaters," he mumbled as he toweled off.

Dean wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at himself. He could see the weariness showing through on his face. The life of a hunter wasn't kind. Fine lines were starting to show around his eyes. There were a few light scars that were hardly noticeable; they were nothing compared to the mental scars from everything he'd seen and done over the years, his time in Hell being at the top of that list. Dean grabbed the toothpaste and his toothbrush from the counter and began to brush his teeth.

* * *

Sam hadn't gotten back yet by the time Dean came out of the bathroom. He walked over to his bed and took the bags off, putting Sam's on the other bed and dropping his clothing bag and the weapons duffel on the floor. Dean frowned when he saw his Colt lying on the carpet between the two beds. He could have sworn he had hidden it in the nightstand drawer. He leaned over to pick it up and looked at it, admiring its sleek lines (It was still his favorite gun.), and then put it away.

After Dean cleaned his bed off, he sat down, fluffing the pillows up behind his back and flicked the TV on. Sam would be back with their food soon and, man, he was hungry. His mouth was already watering thinking of a big, juicy burger…and pie. He settled on an old black and white western as he waited.

The television started to flicker, and then settled. Another minute went by and the channel changed of its own accord. Dean frowned. He picked up the remote and put the western back on. No sooner had he put the remote down and the channel changed again. "Dude, what the hell?"

Suddenly, Dean heard, or thought he heard, a small child-like giggle from somewhere in the room. He thought about the elf, or whatever it was, that was out in the woods earlier. At the same time, the television's volume increased and the laugh track for the TV show picked up. Maybe that's all it was. Dean gave up and turned the thing off. He got up from the bed and found Sam's laptop bag. He figured he could start on the research while he waited for his food.

* * *

Sam held one bag of food in his mouth as he clutched two others in his left hand and started to put the key in lock, but before he was able to finish the motion, the door opened from the inside.

"Where'd you go, Chicago? Took you long enough." Dean grumped as he took the two bags that were in Sam's hand and brought them over to the small table in the kitchen area. That was when he noticed one wasn't food. "Whoa, Sam, you didn't!" He smiled as he pulled a new bottle of whiskey from the second bag.

"That, my brother, is why I took so long." Sam placed the third bag down on the table. "I thought we could both use that after a long day."

"I won't disagree," Dean said as he sat down and started pulling the food from the bags. "I'm starving, dude." He stuffed a pile of fries into his mouth as he unwrapped his bacon cheeseburger from the tin foil.

Sam saw the laptop was up and running. "You find anything?" He gestured to the computer with his chin as he opened a packet of dressing and poured it on his salad. A minute later he stabbed into his meal with a fork and took a bite.

"Nah, I barely got it on when I heard you pull up." Dean took another large bite of his burger and chewed it with what could only pass for sheer bliss. "Mmm, they cook a mean burger over there. How's your rabbit food?"

Sam had spun the laptop to face himself and looked up at Dean from the screen. His brother could be threatened with death and not touch a salad. "It's good." He didn't want to give Dean anything to grasp onto for further taunting. "I see you got your shower in."

"Just barely." At Sam's questioning look, Dean told him about the cold shower. He didn't say anything about the television. These places were lucky to have working televisions in the first place.

"Huh," was Sam's reply. He stuffed another forkful of salad into his mouth and chewed. Dean was always complaining about the showers at the places they stayed. It was no big deal. "Did you send those pictures over to Bobby yet?"

Dean was in the middle of taking a long pull from his Coke when Sam asked him the question. He set the cup back down. "No. Not yet," he said as he stuffed the last of his burger into his mouth. He paused to chew what was in his mouth and swallowed, "I thought we could research this thing a little more first. I didn't want to send him just a couple of pictures that don't show much." He reached back over for his cup and it wasn't there. Dean frowned. It was across the table by Sam. "Sam, did you touch my cup?"

The younger Winchester looked up at his brother. "No, why?" He looked and Dean's soda was sitting next to his own food on the table. He reached over and slid it to Dean without a thought.

"Never mind." Dean picked the cup up and looked at it like he was searching for its hidden legs. Sam would think he was crazy if he said anything. He stood up from the table and collected their trash.

Sam saw that Dean hadn't touched his pie. "Aren't you gonna eat that?" He looked from Dean to the plastic container which still held the dessert.

"I think I just need a drink," Dean said as he reached up to open a cabinet and pulled two glasses out. "Want one?" He held the two glasses up between his fingers.

"Uh, yeah, sure. That's what I got it for." Sam eyed his brother. Something was bothering Dean and he wasn't talking about it. Maybe a couple of drinks would loosen his tongue.

Dean cracked the seal on the bottle and poured two glasses; there was slightly more in his. He turned and gave Sam the second glass. "Cheers," he said somewhat dryly and knocked his drink back in one gulp, only to pour another right after.

* * *

The creature sat back in the corner and watched the interactions between the two men. He had concluded that they were siblings. He could tell they cared for each other. It would be fun to watch Dean break while the other, Sam, watched. The creature saw how Dean was starting to second guess himself, even this early on. A giggle escaped his lips; he couldn't help it.

* * *

Dean heard it again. That damn giggle. He looked over to Sam. His brother was too engrossed in his current research to notice. Someone could have slammed a door behind the man and he probably wouldn't even jump. Dean brought his glass up to his lips and downed the rest of the amber liquid. He pushed up from where he was leaning against the counter and placed the empty tumbler in the sink. Without saying anything to Sam, Dean walked across the room to see if he could find the source of the noise.

He looked behind the television stand. Nothing. Just for ha ha's, Dean unplugged the set while he was there. He looked under the desk. Nothing. He looked in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain, under the sink, behind the toilet. Nothing. He looked under Sam's bed. Nothing.

Dean leaned over and looked under his bed. There _was_ something there. He looked over at Sam. The guy was still typing away at the computer, completely unaware of what Dean was doing. The elder brother got down on his knees and reached under the bed. Something caught on his hand and he yelped as he pulled his arm back out. "Son of a bitch!"

That got Sam's attention. He saw Dean down on the floor between the beds and he raised an eyebrow. "Dean, what the hell are you doing over there?"

Dean looked at his hand. There was a small nick on it and it was bleeding. "Don't worry about it, Sam." He must have caught his hand on the metal frame to the bed. Dean took another quick look under the bed. There was nothing there.

* * *

Sam watched Dean get up from the floor and dust the unseen dirt from his knees. He wanted to know what his brother was up to, but Dean didn't seem like he was in the sharing kind of mood. He looked back at the computer.

"So listen to this. I've cross-referenced what we know, and I'm basing this on it being an Elemental…I think we might be dealing with a Spriggan."

"A what?" Dean was sitting on the bed, nursing the cut on his hand with a tissue.

"A Spriggan. It's a small treelike creature, and from what I can see, they can be pretty nasty; they're vicious little suckers. They've been known to kill cattle, cause blight to crops…hell, they've even been known to leave changelings in place of human children sometimes. And check this out…they are easily identified by their shrill laugh."

Sam continued to read through the description of the creature.

"They're often found in wooded areas, are fast as hell, and can cast mischievous spells. They like to confuse their prey, too." Sam ran his finger down the screen looking for the important bits and pieces of information. "Um, they can also form some kind of bond with animals."

Dean sat listening to what Sam was telling him. He thought about everything that had been happening to him since coming back to the room. No. Everything happening in the room could be explained somehow. It wasn't some little tree hugger.

"So does it say how we can kill it?" He _knew_ he didn't like faeries for a reason.

"Hang on." Sam browsed the web page he was on. "Well, they don't like salt and holy water, but it looks like our best bet is either iron or fire. Oh, and you can supposedly turn your clothes inside out to repel one."

"If anyone thinks I'm gonna start wearing my clothes inside out…" Dean stood up and went back over to the table. He pulled his chair around so he could sit next to Sam and see the computer screen as well. Sam dragged the laptop over so Dean could get a better view.

"Sam, what's that say right there, after it talks about fire being able to take the thing out?"

Sam read the next paragraph. "Fuck."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Dean stood up from the table. Not only were they gonna have to figure out how to catch and kill Speedy Gonzales, they were going to have to do it three friggin' times. "Why don't you check a couple other sites and see if they all say the same thing."

Dean went back over to the sink to retrieve his glass. He needed another drink.

Ten minutes later, Sam spoke up again. "It's not looking too good. They all concur with one another. A Spriggan can regenerate twice. We need to kill it three times." He paused. "And there's something else."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, Sammy." Dean drained the rest of his glass and waited.

Sam carded a hand through his long hair before speaking. "Each time it comes back, it gets stronger."

"Fuck." Dean poured another glass. This time he refilled Sam's, too.

* * *

The Spriggan watched from the shadows. They were talking about his kind and how to rid themselves of him. He smiled. They weren't the first to try, and certainly wouldn't be the last. No one had ever gotten him a first time, let alone three times. He looked at the electronic device that they were getting their information from. With a little wiggle of his nose, he made it short out.

He snickered at the curses coming from the mouths of the two men.

* * *

The brothers stared at the computer. It was fried. The smell of melted plastic tickled their noses.

"How the hell'd that happen?" Dean asked, even though he was starting to have his own suspicions, no matter how far-fetched they seemed to be.

"What makes you think I would know?" Sam was pissed. Sure, most of his past research was saved to external hard drives which were stored at Bobby's house, but it wasn't easy to come by a new computer these days, not with their form of income. He looked over at Dean. Sam saw his brother looking around the room once again, almost as if he was looking for something. "Okay, Dean. Spill it. What've you been hiding from me? And don't tell me 'nothing'. You've been acting weird since getting here."

Yeah, maybe he should tell Sam. Obviously it was doing no good trying to hide it. "I think it's here, Sam…in this room. Somehow it followed us here."

Sam's eyes automatically started to search the room from his seat. No. No way. They would have seen it come into the room. Wouldn't they have? "What makes you think that?"

"Well, it's either that or we have a poltergeist. Weird shit's been happening all night. First it was the shower, and then my gun was on the floor after I swear I left it in the nightstand. And then the TV went on the fritz. I know I heard the thing laughing then.

"Oh, and then my cup disappeared from my end of the table and reappeared by you. And this." He showed Sam the small cut on his hand. "The first few things I was able to explain away, but all of this together? Something's up."

"So that's what you were looking for earlier, the Spriggan?"

"Guilty as charged. Yeah. And I didn't find anything."

Sam stood up and joined Dean by the counter. He could use another drink himself, but he knew it wasn't a good idea, not if they had an Elemental running around loose in their room. Dean might be able to hold his liquor, but Sam couldn't do more than a couple of glasses.

This wasn't a good situation. Sam knew they really shouldn't leave the room, not when there was a chance a creature like that was running around loose. Anyways, if they left, it would probably just follow them. There had to be a reason it came after them in the first place.

"Dean, we're gonna have to search the room again. If you're right and he is here, he seems to be targeting you mostly. Did you do something to piss it off that you're not telling me about?"

Dean just looked at Sam. "No, but I'm gonna when I find it. I'm gonna break its damn neck three times if I have to," Dean growled. He was starting to think he shouldn't have had so much to drink. He was starting to feel a little tipsy. What'd he have, four, five…six glasses? He had lost track. "Why couldn't the damn faery go after you?" he mumbled.

"I guess I'm just lucky." Sam gave a half-smile. "Well, first thing's first." He leaned over to whisper in Dean's ear. "Let's salt the doors and windows so it can't leave."

Dean nodded. He went over to the foot of his bed and picked up the weapons duffel. He set it down on the bed and opened it. After a minute of shuffling things around, Dean produced two canisters of rock salt. He tossed one to Sam and they quickly made their way around the room salting the windows and doors.

* * *

Watching the brothers salt the windows and doors caused the creature to smile. Salt was more of a bother than anything. If he really wanted to leave, he still could, but let them think it would stop him. The same went with holy water. It burned, but that was all. The only things the Spriggan had to worry about were fire and iron. It was true what they said about them. Either could kill him.

He decided to lay low for a while, at least until they went to bed. They had to sleep eventually.

The Spriggan backed off into a far corner of the room and blended his form into the surroundings. He was almost chameleon-like in the way that he did so.

* * *

Sam tossed the nearly empty salt container back to Dean when he was done. "I'll take first watch."

"Yeah, but no, that's not happening," Dean said as he tucked the two salt canisters back into the duffel.

"You're gonna have to sleep some time, Dean."

"Well then I'll take first shift. This bitch is mine if he shows his ugly face. I want first shot. I've even got some old iron rounds kicking around." Dean went to the nightstand and pulled his Colt from the drawer.

"Dean, no. You can't go shooting that thing in here." He stared at Dean with disbelief. This creature had his brother more stirred up than he thought.

"If you want, I could always go out to the car and grab one of the flame throwers." Dean smiled as he said this, knowing Sam would like that even less. He left his gun on the nightstand, not wanting to put it away just yet.

Sam shook his head and chose to ignore his brother. "Let's just take another look around the room before calling it a night." He still wasn't convinced that there was something in the room with them. They'd both been guilty of having overactive imaginations in the past.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the room was torn apart; it looked like a tornado had hit…and they found nothing.

"Dean, I hate to ask, but are you _sure_ this thing's in here?" Sam questioned Dean as he sat down on his bed and toed off his shoes. He was tired. The whiskey hadn't helped to keep him awake. "I know a lot of crap's been happening tonight, but like you said, it can all be explained by normal stuff. Even my laptop. It's not like the thing was new."

Dean dropped down onto his bed and wiped his hands over his face. Was Sam right? He looked around at the salt lining the windows and door. He sighed deeply. It _had _been a long day. He'd been up since seven that morning, drove all the way here, and it was starting to get late.

"Dean?" Sam asked, waiting for a response.

"I don't really know, Sam," he replied with an air of defeat.

"You're tired. I can see that. Why don't you lay down and I'll keep an eye on things for a while. If it stays quiet, we'll just have to assume it's nothing. We'll get an early start tomorrow at the farm and get to work on wrapping this thing up."

Right now, Dean trusted Sam more than he did himself. He'd been second guessing himself all night. "Yeah, okay. Just be sure to wake me if anything, _anything_, happens."

"You know I will, Dean."

* * *

Dean opened his eyes. The red digits of the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand told him it was 2:12 a.m. He could just barely see his brother's silhouette in the other bed. Apparently Sam felt safe enough to go to sleep.

He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. Dean's eyes widened when, there, perched on his headboard and looking down at him with big, dark, beady eyes that twinkled in the moonlight, was the Spriggan.


	3. Chapter 3

The creature waited until the other brother, Sam, gave in and finally went to bed. He still didn't like the smell that emanated from that one. It was different. Soiled somehow. Unnatural.

When he felt it was safe to do so, the Spriggan hopped up onto the bed next to Dean. It was a warm night once more and the man was still only dressed in his pants and had just a sheet draped over him. Dragging a nail lightly over the sleeping figure as he walked to the head of the bed, the creature smiled when Dean shifted from the touch. Ohhh, he could do so much damage to the man right now if he wanted to. But no, this was enjoyable and it had only been just a day. The woods and their animals got boring after so many years. Every now and then he had to come out and play with something new. Dean was that thing this time.

Leaping up onto the headboard, the Spriggan sat there and studied Dean. In human years, the man was still fairly young, but he seemed to have a much older soul. This intrigued the Spriggan. And there was something else, something he'd never sensed from a human before. Dean had been to Hell. The Fae knew all the realms, Heaven and Hell included. They also knew once humans left this place for one of the others, they didn't generally come back to the physical world. The creature tilted his head and tapped his nails on the wooden frame of the bed. How had this one returned? He looked over at Sam. Maybe him?

Sam moved in the other bed. The Spriggan watched him guardedly before looking back down at Dean who rested peacefully below him. The man's breathing had changed. He was waking. The creature smiled and continued his watch. He was safe; there was nothing Dean could do to hurt him right now. He sat still and waited. A moment later, the man rolled and their eyes met.

* * *

Dean's breath caught in his throat. He didn't move, but only stared up at the ugly thing sitting above him on the headboard. If he moved, Dean knew the creature would flee. And was that a smile on the thing's face? Dean couldn't control the shiver that passed through his body, knowing the Spriggan could have, and still could, gut him at any moment.

The hunter moved his hand ever so slowly towards his Colt sitting on the nightstand. He had taken a few extra minutes before bedding down for the night to load iron rounds into the weapon. As he started to reach over, the creature's dark eyes followed the movement. There was a quiet hiss and it shook its head no. Dean stopped. Damn. The thing was intelligent enough to know what he was doing.

His mind was processing a million different ways with which he could take down this little bastard. The problem was, the thing was fast. If he could get his hands on him, maybe, just maybe, he could hold onto him long enough for Sam to kill it. Dean very slowly started to reach a hand up to the Fae being, testing the waters, seeing if it would let him touch it.

The Spriggan didn't move as Dean's hand approached and the hunter kept his fingers crossed. He knew what he was doing probably wasn't the smartest thing, but what other option did he have? The creature had been pestering them all day and this was only the first time either of them were actually seeing it.

"Hey, little buddy. You gonna be nice?" Dean whispered as his hand neared the small being.

Dean held the thing's gaze. He was just inches from making contact. Suddenly, there was movement from Sam's direction and then a scream like none Dean had ever heard before. He looked up at the Spriggan and there was an iron knife embedded in its wooden chest. Holy shit! He glanced at Sam who was now sitting up on the bed in the dark, and then back at the Spriggan.

The Spriggan began to glow, only to burst into a glaring flash of light a second later, and then it was….gone. The knife dropped to the bed, narrowly missing Dean's head.

Dean sat up quickly and reached over to turn the lamp beside the bed on. Sam was sitting on his bed with a slight scowl on his face. "Dude, why the bitch face? You just took out that freakin' little tree hugger!" He smiled. "Great throw, by the way."

"Do you know what that thing could have done to you if you touched it? Shit, Dean." He ran a hand up through his hair to get it out of his face. Sam didn't look like he had slept a wink.

"Don't go yellin' at me, Sam. I had to do something. It's the first damn time either of us even got to see it. I figured if I could catch it, we could kill it somehow." Dean frowned and eyed his brother. "You haven't slept at all, have you?"

"Don't worry about it, Dean. I'm fine." He yawned and rubbed at his tired eyes. Sam knew there was a risk he'd fall asleep once getting into bed earlier, but he had a hunch that if the Spriggan was in the room, as it had been, the creature wouldn't show itself until they were both sleeping. Sam had had a lot of practice pretending to be asleep in the past, sharing these small rooms with his brother for so long. He had only hoped he could trick the Spriggan as well. Apparently it did well enough.

"Where do you think it went? I mean, it's gonna come back right? We have to kill it two more times." Dean started to look around the room, half-expecting the creature to just reappear.

"My best guess it that there's a portal to the Faerie realm in the forest by the Weathers' farm. When it comes back, it'll probably come back through there." Sam looked at Dean. "I think we're okay for the night. Let's get some shuteye."

Dean picked the knife up from his pillow and put it next to his gun. He gave one final glance around the room. "Yeah, okay." He turned off the light and lay back down.

Minutes turned into hours and Dean was still awake. There was no way the elder Winchester was going back to sleep, not tonight. What if Sam was wrong and the Spriggan showed back up in the room? He wasn't going to take that chance. Wherever it came back, the thing was more than likely going to be pissed, especially at Sam.

* * *

The sun rose without further incident. Sam took a long, hot shower and not once did the water threaten to turn cold on him. The morning news was on TV and the channel never changed, nor did the television flicker. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Once Sam was out of the shower and done with the bathroom, Dean went in to brush his teeth and shave. He came out a little while later and picked his duffel bag up from the floor. He tossed it on the bed and started going through it. "We're gonna have to swing by a Laundromat soon. I think I'm out of clean shirts," he said as he sniffed the t-shirt in his hand and made a face. He stuffed it back into the bag and pulled another out. Dean went through a handful of shirts until he found one that passed inspection.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table going through their father's journal. He was checking to see if their dad ever mentioned any encounters with the Fae. He was fairly positive there was nothing in the book. Sam knew he and Dean had the journal practically memorized by now, but it never hurt to check. "Yeah, we can do that," he replied without looking up.

The younger Winchester was tired, but what was worse, he needed another hit from Ruby. It had been days and his supply had run dry. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide things from Dean. With the angels hovering around every corner, his brother was becoming all that much more vigilant.

Sam jumped and looked at Dean when he heard his name called. He was lost in his thoughts. "What?"

"Thank god. For a minute there I thought you were going deaf. You okay?" Dean had just finished putting his boots on and watched his brother. Sam had been slipping more and more lately.

Dean looked at him as if he knew what Sam was thinking about. "Uh, yeah, just tired." Sam closed the journal, and then reached up to scratch at his chest absently. "What were you saying?"

A slight frown passed Dean's features, but he let it go. He had a pretty decent idea he knew what was going on in Sam's head, but it was something they'd have to deal with after the hunt. "I was asking if you wanted to go downtown to pick up breakfast before heading back out to the farm."

Sam's stomach growled in response.

"I guess that's my answer." Dean forced a smile. "Come on. Get your stuff together and let's get rolling." Dean tucked his Colt into the rear of his waistband and grabbed the iron knife which was still sitting on the nightstand from early this morning. They might just need it.

* * *

They pulled into the parking lot of a small diner down on Main Street. Sam and Dean walked through the front door and took a booth towards the rear of the establishment. It was the typical '50s-style place. The floor was laid out in a black-and-white checkered pattern; the booths had red vinyl on the seats and the tables were white with chrome-plated trim. Dean smiled when he saw the pictures lining the walls. Classic cars were portrayed in every one. His favorite was an old 1956 Chevy Corvette. The model shown was cherry red with white accents. "Now _that_ was a nice car," he said, nodding to the framed print as the waitress approached the table.

"Good morning," the waitress said cheerfully as she handed them menus. "I'm Allison and I'll be your waitress. Can I get you some coffee while you decide what you want?"

"Actually," Dean spoke up, "we're in a little bit of a rush this morning." He took up the two menus from the table and handed them back to Allison with a smile. "We'll just take two coffees, and two," he looked over her shoulder at the menu placard above the counter, "of your breakfast specials." He looked at Sam and got an okaying nod. "Make one sunny-side up and the other scrambled, please."

"Sure thing. I'll be right back with your coffees," Allison said as she quickly jotted down their orders on her order pad and turned around to get their orders called in.

Sam was still quiet. "Dude, seriously. Are you feeling alright this morning? You haven't said more than a handful of words since you got up. It's not like you. Normally, I can't get you to shut up."

"Dean, I'm fine, really. I'm just, I don't know…_off_ today. I'll be alright once we get things going."

Allison came back with their coffees and they thanked her. Dean picked his up and drank it black. Sam took his time and poured enough cream and sugar into his to convert it over to some form of dessert, and then finally took a sip.

"I gotta hit the head. I'll be back." Sam suddenly said as he put his cup back down on its saucer and slid out of the booth. He made a beeline toward the bathrooms in the far corner of the diner.

"Sure thing, Sam," Dean mumbled to himself. Not only did they both have to deal with this Spriggan, but Dean had to deal with this demon shit his brother was up to his eyeballs in. He had his hands full.

Sam didn't return until after their food arrived; he knew he had taken too long. He was still quiet, but now the younger brother was avoiding making any eye contact with Dean. If he did, the man would know for sure; Dean wouldn't just have his suspicions to go on.

Sam picked at his food. Not more than a few forkfuls made it past his lips. The guilt was eating away at him for sneaking around on Dean, but he _had_ to do it. As soon as he closed the bathroom door and locked it, he called Ruby…and for once, she came when called.

Dean didn't say anything to Sam. He just ate.

* * *

It was nearly 11:00 a.m. when the Impala finally pulled up next to the cattle barn.

"So," Dean started, "Simple plan…find this thing's hideout, flush it out, and shoot the sucker. We've got ten iron rounds between the two of us. If we screw up and can't take it down with them, well, I guess we'll have to fall back on the torch or whatever iron implement you'd like to lug out there with you. I call dibs on the hatchet."

Sam looked at Dean for the first time since the diner. He was fairly certain Dean knew what was up, but his brother had set aside whatever issues he may have had so they could get this hunt done. "Just watch yourself, Dean. We already know its preference for you."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one who killed it." Dean opened the door to get out. "Let's go."

Dean popped the trunk and began to load the a duffel with supplies: two fresh canisters of salt, a flask of holy water, his homemade flame thrower, an iron crowbar, two shotguns, and the first aid kit. He zipped it shut when he had everything he wanted. That being done, he dug through the miscellany of loose weapons at the bottom of the trunk until he found the hatchet. Sam reached in and pulled out two small iron knives, much like the one he used on the Spriggan earlier.

Dean shouldered the duffel and looked at his brother. "All set?" he asked before closing the trunk.

"Yeah," Sam said. He was looking off toward the forest, wondering what today was going to bring. Sam had gotten lucky this morning. The Spriggan was side-tracked with Dean, but he was sure the creature learned from its mistake. Sam didn't think it would be so easy to take it down the second and third times.

"Alright. Let's go do this." Dean slammed the lid to the trunk closed and the brothers began their short walk across the field to the woods. Dean made sure he watched where he stepped this time.

* * *

As they neared the line of trees, they drew their guns. Both men stepped from the field as one and entered the forest. This time, the birds didn't stop their tweeting and the insects didn't end their calls. Sam didn't pick up any strange vibes either. He frowned.

"Dean, something's different this time."

Dean stepped over a dead tree which lay across his path and glanced at Sam who was roughly three or four yards off to his left. "Like what?"

"I don't know, but the animals haven't gone all quiet like last time," Sam replied as he ducked under a branch and twisted in between two trees which had grown close together.

"You sayin' you don't think it's here?" Dean stopped and looked at Sam, waiting for an answer.

Sam swiped at a gnat that was flying around his head. "I don't know. I'm just saying maybe it's in hiding or something. Maybe we scared it."

"Ha, wouldn't that be nice." Dean turned and kept walking. "But I have a better idea. It likes to come out and play at night, right? I bet it's just sleeping." It was a comment made in sarcasm. Dean wondered if something like that ever did sleep.

* * *

A hawk with a strange green tint to its feathers and bright emerald eyes sat atop a tall tree. He watched the two men below as they headed deeper into the woods. The bird let out a call that rang throughout the forest. It stretched its wings out and settled on the branch again. One or both of the humans wouldn't be coming out of these woods alive.

There was revenge to be had.

* * *

Nearly ten minutes of walking and roughly a half mile into the forest, Sam and Dean came across a small stream. It was only about three feet wide and maybe some six or so inches deep. On the other side of it, there were the remains of an old brick house from some time in history's past. Anything that may have been wooden had rotted away years ago, leaving the doorways bare and the windows empty of their frames and glass. The roof had long since fallen in. Lush, green vines wrapped up and around the structure, pushing through the mortar holding the bricks together; small trees were growing up from within as well as other small shrubs and bushes. It was the wrong time of year for the greenness of it all and the Winchesters knew they had found what they were looking for.

"Home sweet home," Dean murmured as he stood there looking at the building. "So this is what Pinocchio's house looks like, huh?" He checked his gun to make sure the chamber was loaded and that the safety was off. Sam followed suit. They needed to be prepared for this thing when it came at them.

A hawk cried out from above and they looked up. It was circling high over the autumn-bare trees.

Dean squinted up at the bird. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that's Speedy's security system." He looked back over to Sam.

Sam couldn't help but smile and laugh. "Speedy? Do you have names for everything?" Dean could always break up a tense moment if he wanted to. And then there were the other times when his brother could make the tension a million times worse than was called for. "But yeah, I'm gonna have to go with you on that one. He's more than likely bonded with that hawk. He knows we're here, Dean."

Just then, a shrill giggle came from the other side of the stream.

* * *

The Spriggan knew the brothers would come for him. It was only a matter of time. It had hurt when that rotten iron knife cut deeply into his chest. But now he was back, stronger than before. He didn't like Sam, hadn't wanted to go near the man, but things were different now. Sam would pay for what he had done.

The mind meld with the hawk was simple. As soon as he came through the door from the realm of the Fae and back into this one, he started watching for the hunters. A birds-eye view of the land was the best way to watch what was happening. The Spriggan giggled when they came into sight. These humans were too predictable.

* * *

Dean dropped the weapons duffel to the ground and ran, jumping over the stream, brandishing both hatchet and gun. "Come on, Sam. This son of a bitch is gonna go down."

"Dean, wait! You can't just-" Sam was in the middle of making the leap over the stream to catch up with his brother when he was tripped up in midair and fell with a splash, knees grinding into the hard stones beneath the water. A shrill giggle coming from the trees accompanied Sam's fall.

"Shit!" Sam yelled out in frustration. There was nothing there that he could have caught his foot on. Sam looked around as he made to get up. That damn Spriggan was starting to piss him off.

Dean stopped and turned around upon hearing the small splash and his brother's curse. "Sam, y'okay?"

"Just great. I like being wet." Sam had dropped his gun when he fell and had just spotted it off to the side. Thankfully it hadn't landed in the water.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Dean snickered.

"Dude, just…" Sam reached for his gun and a shadow passed over his hand. He cried out and pulled his arm back as a sharp pain raged through his hand. There was blood welling up from a slash in it. Yeah, this hunt sucked, he thought to himself.

Dean heard Sam cry out in pain and was immediately back at his brother's side. He pried Sam's right hand out from where the man was holding it to himself. "Let me see, Sammy." From pinky knuckle to thumb, over the top of his hand, there was a large gash, almost down to the bone. "Jesus! Goddammit," Dean groaned. "That fucking little bastard!" He looked around, but knew it was in vain. "Come on. Let me get the first aid kit and we'll get you fixed up." Dean picked Sam's Taurus up from the ground and handed it to the man. "Here you go, Lefty."

Sam rolled his eyes. Figures the thing would do something to his right hand. Sam watched as Dean unzipped the bag and yanked the first aid kit out. He tried to hold his hand steady as his brother worked on it, but couldn't help the slight tremble.

"It's gonna need stitches, but these steri-strips will hold things in place until we can get back to the room," Dean said as he worked. He wrapped and taped gauze around Sam's hand. "I think you'll be okay."

"Thanks, Dr. Winchester." Sam pulled his hand back to his chest. Just because it was all bandaged up didn't mean it had stopped hurting.

"My pleasure." When Dean was done with his work, he looked at Sam. "Be careful. Now we know for sure he's taken a liking to both of us." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Stick close, okay. No more playing around." What he said may have come out playfully, but his eyes shown with concern, concern which quickly turned to anger at the creature that had hurt his little brother. He tucked the first aid kit away and while he was there, Dean grabbed the flask of holy water and pocketed it. He saw Sam watching him. "Just in case. C'mon."

Once more, the Winchesters crossed the brook in search of their quarry.

* * *

There was another giggle coming from their right, over by the old house. Both sets of eyes, green and hazel, turned in the direction.

"Seriously, dude. After this hunt, if I ever hear another giggle like that…" Dean complained as they changed direction to head toward the sound. "Hang back for a minute. I'm gonna go in and see if I can spook him out. Get ready and shoot as soon as you see something. Just make sure you don't shoot me."

"Dean-" Sam started.

"I'll be fine, Sam. Just get your gun out and be ready." He stalked off to where the front door had once been located and entered the house.

Dean looked around the interior of the structure. It looked like a greenhouse. Obviously the plants had taken a liking to the Spriggan. After walking further in, something caught his eye over by where a fireplace once burned. Dean moved toward it to see what it was.

A gold bracelet was catching the late morning light. "Huh." Dean reached down and picked it up. That was when he noticed a small crevice in the brickwork in front of him. He reached in and felt around. Feeling some thing or some things, Dean closed his hand around it and pulled his hand free a moment later. Opening his hand, Dean saw that it was a collection of trinkets and baubles…buttons, bracelets, watches, paperclips, and a variety of other things, some old and some new, some worthless and others valuable. The hunter smiled. "Hey, Sam," he called out, "I think I found Speedy's stash!"

There was no answer. "Sam?" Dean turned and waited for his brother's response. Nothing still. He dropped the handful of treasure and moved back over to the doorway as silently as possible, peeking around it when he got there. What he saw caused him to raise his gun. His finger rested on the trigger and he took a deep breath. Slowly letting the breath out, Dean took aim and fired the weapon at the small creature standing on his unconscious brother's chest. He didn't wait to see what would happen, but ran to his brother.

* * *

The Spriggan watched from behind a tree. Dean was leaving Sam all alone. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the tall man who he had already managed to harm once. The younger brother wasn't scared for himself though, even after what had happened. He was scared for Dean. His mind was on his brother's safety, not his. The creature smiled.

With a wiggle of its nose, the Spriggan sent a large rock flying up into the side of Sam's head, almost knocking him out, but not completely. It was enough though that the man was in a daze and wouldn't cry out, wouldn't be able to call for his brother. In a flash, the creature was upon the man, tearing at him with his long claws. Sam could do nothing more than moan and weakly try to fight him off. The hunter would get his due for killing him. Yes, he would.

As the blood poured from the many wounds on the man's neck and chest, the Spriggan sat back and took a moment to enjoy his handywork. Suddenly, a resounding _CRACK!_ rang out through the air and he felt Death upon him once again. He screamed.

* * *

The Spriggan disappeared with a scream in a flash of light just as Dean fell to the ground on his knees beside Sam. "Sam! Sammy!" He shouldn't have left his brother all alone out here. "Goddammit!" Dean cursed himself for his carelessness. All he could see was blood…and a whole lot of it. Shit. He felt for a pulse and sighed in relief. It was there, faint, but there.

"Hang in there, Sammy. I'll take care of you." The elder Winchester ran over to retrieve the weapons duffel and pulled the first aid kit out for the second time that morning. He would patch up what he could. Dean didn't know if Sam had lost consciousness from blood loss or something else. What he _did_ see was a big, gaping wound on the side of the man's head. "What the hell did that little tree hugger do to you, Sam?"


	4. Chapter 4

Dean worked fast. Sam was bleeding out from more than just a few wounds. It reminded the elder hunter all too much of what he must have looked like when the hellhounds came for him. "Sammy, don't let go, alright? I got you." God, there was even blood coming from the kid's mouth.

Dean wiped his bloody hands off on his jeans and reached into his pocket to pull his phone free. He had saved Joss Weathers' number in his contact list yesterday just in case they needed it. He was glad now that he did. Dean dialed the number and crossed his fingers the man would answer.

Joss answered after three rings. Dean thanked whoever was looking down on him from above and quickly informed the farmer that there had been an accident; he needed some sort of transportation out of the woods. After describing the ruins in the forest, the man said he knew exactly where they were and reassured Dean that he would be there as quickly as possible. When Joss offered to call an ambulance, Dean looked down at Sam. He didn't want to get involved with a hospital, but it didn't look like they had a choice in the matter. "Yeah, I think we're gonna need one."

Dean could do nothing more than comfort his brother until Joss arrived. There was only so much a cheap first aid kit had in it. Spare blood wasn't one of the things it could provide and Sam needed that as much as the air he was raggedly breathing in.

Holding Sam to him, Dean whispered quiet words of encouragement, things like "Hold on, Sammy" or "You can beat this". He was rapidly becoming more concerned as the minutes went by. Dean checked his brother's pulse again; it was getting weaker and he was growing cold. Sam was going into hypovolemic shock. The elder Winchester pulled his brother even closer, trying to keep the young man warm.

A few minutes went by and Dean heard the sound of an ATV coming through the trees. Joss pulled up to them shortly thereafter and hesitated for just a moment when he saw the condition Sam was in. "My god, what happened?" Joss asked as he worked on helping Dean get up onto the vehicle with Sam and then grabbed their bag to strap it to the rack on the back.

"Let's just say that critter of yours is one mean son of a bitch," Dean answered. "How fast can you get us back?"

"Just hang on tight." The quad launched forward and Dean held on tightly, to both Sam and the vehicle. "By the time we get back, the ambulance should be at the house."

* * *

Dean closed the ambulance door behind the EMT and ran to the Impala. Due to some stupid protocol, they wouldn't allow him to ride with Sam to the hospital; they never did. But each and every time the brothers had ever been in this situation, Dean tried.

The hunter called a thanks out to Joss and promised the man he'd call later as he pulled the car door closed. Moments later, the wheels spun, kicking up the loose gravel until they found purchase, and the Impala flew out of the driveway.

* * *

_Sam was standing a few yards away from the dilapidated brick house waiting for Dean. He looked up at the afternoon sun; a few fair weather clouds passed by. His thoughts were turned inward to Dean. The man always insisted on taking point. Sam would be safer that way. The younger hunter sometimes felt smothered over the years being under his brother's wing. What was Sam thinking? It wasn't sometimes, it was all the time._

_Sam adjusted his grip on his gun and let his eyes scan the trees around him, searching. The giggle had come from the structure and, more than likely, that's where the Spriggan had been when they heard it. By now, though, the creature could be anywhere. Dean knew that; Sam knew that._

_Sam took a few steps toward the side of the small house. The forest became silent as he did so. He hadn't noticed the birds growing quiet, nor the insects who had done so as well. He also didn't notice the Spriggan dart out from a nearby tree. Even if he had seen it, the creature's shadow would have only blended in with the afternoon shadows shifting between the trees._

_What he did notice was the fist-sized rock that unexpectedly cracked into the side of his head a moment later. It hit so hard that it brought him down to his knees. The world began to spin around him and Sam closed his eyes, trying to get it to stop. He felt warm blood trickle down the side of his face as he did. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that it hadn't helped in the least._

_In his blurred vision, Sam saw something move toward him. Oh, god! was his final thought as the Spriggan leapt onto his chest, clutching with sharp claws, and knocked him to the ground. Sam saw the deadly smile spread over the creature's wooden features just before he felt the pain of the razor-like nails tear into him. Sam tried to scream, but nothing came from his mouth except for the blood. It all happened so fast. All he could feel was pain._

Sam opened his eyes and tried to sit up. Bright lights blinded him as he fought the hands trying desperately to hold him down. "Get off me!" he yelled. Sam was hurting and could hardly breathe. He had to get away. He had to find Dean. "Dean!"

Suddenly he felt very tired and his limbs began to feel heavy. _No. I have to get to Dean. Where's Dean?_ Sam's eyes closed against his will and he fell into a weary darkness.

* * *

Dean paced the waiting room. He had just finished filling out the mountain of paperwork needed for insurance purposes and was awaiting word on Sam. The younger Winchester was over in the Intensive Care Unit at the moment. He needed massive amounts of stitches, but first they had to treat him for shock and a collapsed lung. Apparently one of the Spriggan's claws had dug in so deeply that it had punched a hole in the young hunter's left lung. Once they got him stabilized, the doctors would get him all fixed up, including replacing the blood that he lost.

Minutes ticked by on the clock and there was no word. Dean was becoming increasingly impatient as he watched the time slowly pass by. Finally, he got up and went to the desk. He knew from past experience that they would take their time getting back to him if he didn't apply some pressure.

"Excuse me." It never hurt to start off politely.

"Can I help you?" the forty-something year old woman behind the desk asked, blue eyes peering out from behind her black-framed glasses. Her sandy blond hair was cropped short, a style that could easily be kept up with when working in the medical field.

"Yeah, my brother, Sam Jones, he's in the ICU and I haven't heard anything yet. It's been more than an hour. Can you find out if he's okay?" Dean tried for the puppy dog eyes that his brother did so well. He wasn't sure if it worked, so he threw in, "He's my only family."

Something must have worked because the woman gave Dean a sympathetic smile and got up from her desk. "I'll check on him for you. But you'll have to give me a couple of minutes." She walked through the swinging doors across the hall from her desk and disappeared from sight.

As promised, several minutes later, the woman returned. "They're just working on stitching him up, but he's stable now. They told me he woke up and started to fight with the staff earlier. The doctors had no choice but to sedate him. He'll be kept under until he's moved into recovery. I'd say maybe another hour or so. I wish I could say sooner." She sat back down at her desk. "One of the doctors will be out to speak with you shortly."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Sam was going to be okay. "Thank you." He didn't like hearing Sam had to be sedated, but things could be worse.

The woman could see the tension leave Dean's face. "It's just my sister and myself, so I know how you feel. Why don't you run down to the cafeteria and get a coffee. It might help. You've got time. It's right down the hall to the left." She pointed behind Dean. "You can't miss it."

Dean smiled and nodded. That sounded like a good idea. Waiting wasn't his thing, not when Sam was hurt. Even if hospital coffee tasted like shit, it would give him something to do for a few minutes.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later a man of Indian descent walked through the swinging doors. He had on a white lab coat which led Dean to believe this was the doctor he had been waiting for. "Dean Jones?" the man asked, looking at Dean.

"Yeah, that's me." Dean jumped up out of his seat, almost knocking it over. "How is he, doc?"

The doctor smiled. "He looks like he's in the clear. Come with me to my office and we'll talk in private. Your brother still has another half hour or so before they will be done with him," he said as they walked through the swinging doors. "By the way, my name's Dr. Nadhamuni. I will be Sam's primary caregiver while he is here."

Dean barely heard the man's introduction as he eyed every room they passed on the way to the doctor's office. Sam wasn't to be found in any of them. Dr. Nadhamuni led him to the last room on the right which was a large and sleekly designed office.

"Take a seat." The doctor gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he sat down.

"Thanks." Dean sat down in the large leather seat and looked at the doctor, waiting for him to begin.

"Your brother's one lucky man, Mr. Jones. You say it was a large animal attack?" he asked as he looked down at Sam's file, and then back up at Dean.

"That's what we're guessing it was. He was out in the woods when we found him. Whatever it was, it tore him to shreds out there." Dean shifted in his chair. "So he's really gonna be alright?"

"Yes, I believe so. He has a slight concussion which we are keeping an eye on. We were able to take care of the collapsed lung. It was only partially collapsed, luckily. The puncture was fairly small and will heal on its own. He will just have to rest for the next few days so it can do so. We replenished the lost blood and have him on an I.V. drip to help with any leftover symptoms of shock." The doctor moved to get more comfortable in his chair. "The wounds on his chest were severe as you probably already know. One of our best doctors is wrapping things up as we speak. There were more than a few stitches needed, both internal and external. The wounds were quite extensive, I'm afraid."

"So how long will he need to stay here?" Dean was already thinking ahead of the game. He didn't want to have to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Well, we'll need to monitor the concussion overnight, but my biggest concern is the collapsed lung. We'll need to watch him for a few days to make sure it doesn't collapse again. It's not often that that happens, so I wouldn't worry yourself over it. We'll help by providing additional oxygen through a nasal cannula. As far as the stitches, once again, he'll just need to rest and let the injuries heal. So to answer your question, I'd like to see him stay for three full days."

Shit, Dean thought to himself. Three days? That meant he'd have to finish the hunt on his own. Awesome. Just what he wanted to do. The idea of Bobby helping out briefly came to mind, but he threw that out almost as fast as the thought arose. He wouldn't put the man in that position. And Cas? Right now, Dean wasn't sure if he could even trust the angel. He wouldn't even bother to go there.

"Okay. If that's what he needs, then we'll deal with it."

Before the doctor could respond, his phone buzzed. He held up a finger asking Dean to give him a moment and picked up the receiver. "Okay. – Yes. – Yes. I am speaking to Mr. Jones' brother right now. Thank you." He hung the phone up. "They just finished up with Sam and are moving him over to recovery. If you'll follow me, I will take you to him."

* * *

Dean followed the doctor out of the office and up another couple of hallways. Eventually they stopped in front of a room. The privacy curtain was drawn and Dean couldn't see the patient in the bed, but he assumed it was his brother.

"Sam's not awake yet, but should be shortly. You can go on in. If you need anything, there's a call button. One of the on-duty nurses can help you. Visiting hours in the ICU are from 6:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Now if you'll excuse me," he smiled politely at Dean, "I have other patients to see to. I will be sure to check back in with you before you leave. I'm assuming you'll be here through the end of visiting hours?"

"Yeah. I'll be here. Thanks, doc." Dean took a breath and walked into the room, stepping behind the curtain to see Sam. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "Sammy, you sure have a knack for finding the short straw." He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down.

Dean looked at his sleeping brother. The blood had all been cleaned up. There was a bandage on the right side of his head where the gash from whatever hit him was and the sheets were only pulled up to his waist, exposing his chest which was covered in fresh white bandages. Sam's right hand was wrapped in gauze as well. Miraculously, his face had escaped any damage from the Elemental.

As mentioned by the doctor, Sam was receiving additional oxygen through a nasal cannula to make sure his left lung stayed properly inflated. The heart monitor beeped, signaling Sam's steady heartbeat and Dean looked up at the machine's screen. He saw that Sam's blood pressure was well within the normal range; his heartbeat was as well. The sad fact about this whole thing was that both of them had been in that bed before, and Dean knew this wouldn't be the last time either.

* * *

Sam first heard an annoying _beep..beep..beep_ droning into his head. His eyes were heavy and it took some work to get them to open. When he finally did, he groaned internally, knowing exactly where he was. Dean was sitting in a pea soup green-colored chair and was asleep, but somehow, in that weird way, he must have sensed Sam was awake because he opened his eyes.

"Hey, Dean," Sam rasped out with a slur. His throat was dry and he was more than thoroughly medicated.

"Hey, kiddo." Dean moved to get up from his seat. "Let me get you some water before you try talking any more." There was a water pitcher sitting on a table off to the side of the room. He was back at Sam's side a moment later. "Here, drink some of this."

Sam took a sip from the cup Dean held up to his lips. The cold water was like a balm to his aching throat. When he felt he had enough, Sam pulled away. "Thanks."

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked as he put the cup aside and sat back down.

The younger Winchester lifted his head from the pillow and looked over his body before answering. "Like I was put through a paper shredder." His head dropped back down heavily. With whatever meds they had him on, it felt like it weighed a ton.

Dean cracked a smile. He could see Sam was dosed up on painkillers. "The doc says you're gonna be okay. But I hate to tell you this, you're gonna have to stay here for a few days. That little shit punctured your left lung. They need to keep an eye on things to make sure it doesn't collapse again." Dean looked up at the I.V. bag. "And aside from the 'feel good' meds they've got you on, you're probably on a mess of antibiotics, too. Oh, and just in case they ask, you were attacked by some wild animal and we found you like this."

Sam blinked his eyes. He was starting to feel a little woozy and Dean was becoming a bit of a blur. "Really? You can't get me out of here sooner?" Sam looked to his brother for some form of escape from his current predicament, but it didn't look like it was going to happen.

Dean shook his head. "No can do. Not this time, Sammy. I can't fix a collapsed lung. Most things, yeah, but not that. I won't take a chance like that."

Sam groaned. "What about the hunt?" He didn't want Dean out there hunting that thing alone, not after what happened today. The younger Winchester knew his brother was probably crazy enough to try though.

"Don't worry about it. I got it covered," Dean said nonchalantly. He looked at his watch. "I gotta leave here by six-thirty. If it makes you feel better, tonight I'm just gonna go back to the motel and get cleaned up...rest up some, too. I'll swing by here in the morning before I do head out. We'll talk then when you're feeling more up to it and see how you're doing, but I'm afraid you're out for the rest of this one."

"But-" Sam started.

Dean looked Sam in the eye. "No 'buts', Sam. It just ain't gonna happen. I can finish this up." His tone had a note of finality in it.

Sam gave Dean bitch face #9 as Dean like to think of it as. "You're gonna get yourself killed. You know that, right?" The man was getting upset; the increased beeping of the heart monitor was evidence of that, as well as the numbers to his blood pressure which were inching up.

"I'll be fine, Sam. Don't get yourself worked up over it." Dean looked up at the machine above Sam's bed. "You get that thing going enough, the nurses are gonna come runnin' and I haven't seen any hot ones." He smiled at his brother. "Look…it only needs to be killed one more time. I think I can handle it. Besides, it's been a lot easier to take out than we first thought."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe the thing _let_ you kill it this last time? Maybe it _wanted_ to come back stronger." Sam's eyes were growing heavy; his voice was becoming more of a whisper. He didn't have it in him to put up a long fight. "Nothing you can say will make me okay with it, Dean. You really shouldn't..." Sam was losing the battle against the onslaught of sleep.

Dean could see his brother wasn't going to last. "We can talk about it later, Sammy. It's not worth getting riled up about it right now. The doc wants you to rest, so why don't you give it a shot. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

The elder Winchester was surprised when all he got was a "Yeah, okay, Dean," and then Sam was asleep.

* * *

The doctor showed up a little after six and woke Sam to check his vitals. "Hi, Sam. I'm Dr. Nadhamuni. How are you feeling?" He worked while he spoke, carefully pressing the cool chestpiece of his stethoscope to Sam's chest in between the bandages.

Sam's eyes went to Dean, and then back to the doctor. He hated admitting he was in pain in front of his brother, but he was honest with the man standing in front of him. "I have a headache and I'm tired."

"That's to be expected after a severe blow to the head like the one you received." Dr. Nadhamuni pulled the stethoscope from his ears and draped it around his neck. "You lost a lot of blood, too," he said as he held a pen light up in front of Sam's eyes and checked his pupil dilation. "Uh, huh," he said to himself. He stepped back and adjusted the drip from one of the I.V. bags. "Well, you look good to me. I've increased your medication a little to help with the pain you're feeling. It will help you sleep, too." The doctor glanced at Dean, before he looked back at Sam and asked, "Has Dean told you that I want you to stay here for a few days?"

Sam only nodded. He still wasn't happy about it, but he understood it was for his own good.

"Good. Well, I'm heading home for the night, but as I mentioned to your brother earlier, if you need anything, just press the call button and one of the nurses can help you." The doctor wished Sam well and said he would see him again tomorrow. He turned to leave, but he stopped short at the doorway, looking at Dean and raising his eyebrows. "Visitor's hours are over. You need to let Sam rest." And then he left.

"Well, I guess that's my cue," Dean said as he stood up. "You good?" he asked Sam.

The increased meds were kicking in and Sam forced his eyes to remain open. "Yeah. But Dean, don't do anything crazy, okay?"

"Sure thing, Sammy." Dean moved to the door, and looked back at his brother. The man was already asleep. "I'll be back in the morning."

* * *

Dean breathed in the fresh air when he stepped out of the hospital and into to the parking lot. God, he hated these places. And to have to leave Sam there all alone…it sucked, but at least he'd be safe. Dean fished his keys out from his pocket and made his way between the parked cars to the Impala.

He would keep his word to Sam. Tonight he was just going to head back to the motel and lay low. Too much had happened already today. There was no need to go out and risk his ass tonight. Maybe he'd even give Bobby a call, see if he'd heard anything more on seals being broken.

Tomorrow though…that was another story.

* * *

A doorway of pale light shown near the ruins in the forest. And from this light, the Spriggan stepped back into the mortal world for a second time in two days. The sun had already set and he looked around at the silent forest. He looked at his home. Dean had found his treasures; the human had touched them. The creature's lip turned up in a sneer. _No one_ touched a Spriggan's treasure. Ever. His new toy had killed him as well. He was done playing with Dean.

The Elemental had let his guard down the first time he was killed. He had underestimated the humans. That was his error. When he came back, he wanted to get his revenge on the one who had done it. That task was now accomplished, he thought as he sniffed the air and looked down at the blood staining the ground. Sam should be good and dead by now.

By no means did the creature start out his second life with the intention of letting one of the hunters kill him again, but the more he had pondered over it, the more he liked the idea of coming back as a fully matured Spriggan, for the first two lives were merely a childhood for his kind. He had been weak and unable to draw upon his full potential then.

The Spriggan decided to test out one of his new abilities. He stretched his arms out, took a deep breath, and concentrated. Suddenly, he grew…and grew. Within seconds he was nearly as tall as the trees around him. He smiled. Yes, this was nice. The creature only remained as such for a brief moment before allowing himself to shrink back to his normal size once more. Power didn't come for free. He'd have to sacrifice another one of those stupid animals again before he left.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Dean did when he got back to the motel was strip out of his blood-stained clothing and take a hot shower. He felt much better for it afterwards. Once showered, he toweled off and went to find something to put on. The Indian summer was tapering off and there was a chill to the room so he put on his sweatpants from last night and grabbed a long-sleeved t-shirt from his bag. Once he was clean and comfortable, Dean went to the fridge and took out the bottle of whiskey and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He thought he deserved it after the day he'd had.

He set the two down on the nightstand and opened the drawer below. Dean had noticed a phonebook in there earlier and wanted to order dinner from the local Chinese take-out joint. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and he was starving. By the time he was done, Dean felt like he ordered half the menu: Sweet & Sour Chicken, fried rice, an egg roll, a pint of lo mein, and some fried wontons. All he could understand from the guy on the phone was that it would be twenty minutes before he would see his food.

Dean was restless. He wasn't used to spending the night alone. Sam was always there to help occupy his time. Even if his brother was asleep, he was still _there_. Dean opened the whiskey and poured half a glass. That was all for now. Even _the _Dean Winchester had to watch his alcohol intake on a completely empty stomach.

Looking over at the clock, he suddenly remembered he was supposed to call Joss. The man was probably worried by now. It had been hours since Sam was loaded into the ambulance and hauled away. He pulled up the farmer's number and made the call. Dean kept the conversation short, but assured the man that Sam would be okay after a few days' rest.

Before they hung up with one another, Joss had one question for Dean. He wanted to know, were they safe staying at the house? Dean honestly couldn't say for sure and told the man right out.

"You know, I think Sam and I have this thing so pissed off, it's gonna come after us before it does anything to you, but I wouldn't recommend spending too much time near those woods. That's home turf. And you may want to keep the kids inside until we get it taken care of."

"What exactly is _it_, Dean? I don't want to believe it, but my Stella, she keeps insisting that there's some sort of 'little man' running around out there."

"The less I tell you, the better off you'll be. Believe me. Just let me and Sam take care of it. Give us a couple more days and then you can forget we were ever here."

There was pause on the other end of the line, and then, "You two aren't from the Department of Agriculture, are you?"

Dean sighed. He had to give the man credit, he was smart. Dean avoided a direct answer to the man's question. "Like I said, we'll be out of your hair in a couple of days. You won't have any more problems once we're done."

"Yeah, okay, Dean. Whoever you two are, thank you for taking the risk to help me out. I really appreciate it. And I hope Sam feels better soon."

Dean raised an eyebrow. He didn't know what to say, so rarely did they ever get thanked for doing their job. He cleared his throat. "You can thank me when this is over."

There was a knock at the door. His food was here. "Hey, I gotta run. Just keep your windows and doors locked. It wouldn't hurt to lay a line of salt down at each one…don't ask. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up and went to the door, picking up his wallet from the table on the way.

Dean opened the door to find a short Chinese guy standing there holding a bag of food.

"You order food?" the man asked Dean.

"Yep, that's me. How much?" Dean just wanted to get his food and eat.

"Sixteen dollar ninety-two, please," the man said with a big, toothy smile.

Dean pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over. "Keep the change."

"Thank you." The little man handed Dean the bag and gave a little bow before he turned to leave. His small blue car was still running next to the Impala outside.

Dean tried to hide the smile that the bow caused. Shaking his head, he closed the door and walked over to the kitchenette. He dropped the brown bag onto the table and then walked over to the nightstand to swipe the bottle of whiskey off it along with his glass.

He sat down and took his food out of the bag. Once everything was laid out in front of him, Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Bobby's number. He'd been wanting to call the man, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. Once the old hunter's line started ringing, Dean put the phone on speaker so he could eat while he talked to him.

"Yeah?" Bobby's gruff voice came over the line.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean took a bite of his chicken. He closed his eyes, savoring it. Finally.

"Dean? Well, I was wondering when you boys would be calling. Whatcha been up to?"

"We're out in Iowa hunting an Elemental," Dean replied with his mouth half full of lo mein. He swallowed before continuing. "It's one fast and sneaky fucker, let me tell you. Sam got his ass kicked by it yesterday. He's over at the County General."

"Aw, Dean. Is he gonna be okay?" Bobby had seen his boys get hurt on way too many occasions over the years, but he could tell Dean wasn't panicked, so he sat back and listened to what the man had to say.

"Yeah, he just needs some rest. The doc said three days." Dean reached over and poured a glass of whiskey while he spoke. "He had a small concussion, a punctured lung and needed a shit load of stitches on his chest after the thing tore him apart. He'll be able to leave the day after tomorrow, but he's still gonna have to lie low for a while."

"I'm sure he'll love that. Did you take the son of a bitch down?" Bobby sounded angry, not at Dean, but at the whole situation of Sam getting hurt like that.

Dean knocked back the glass of amber liquid. "No. I'm heading back out tomorrow." He picked up an egg roll and took a bite. Half the contents spilled out on his plate. Shit. Dean wasn't even sure why he got an egg roll. Sam was the one who liked them. He dropped the rest of it on the dish and pushed it out of the way. He pulled the box of fried rice over and started on it.

"What kind of Elemental is it?" Bobby knew there were all sorts of them out there. Some were more dangerous than others.

"A Spriggan." Dean sat back in the chair, eating directly from the cardboard box.

"Dammit, Dean. You're hunting a Spriggan? By yourself?" Dean could hear the man huffing on the other end of the line. "How many times have you two managed on killing the thing?"

"Twice. It wasn't that hard. I can deal with it." First Sam, now Bobby. Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I haven't been hunting this long to let something like this take me down. I'll be fine."

"Like hell you will. And how do you plan on killing it the third time? You do know it's gone through a kind of change, right? It ain't the same cute and cuddly little critter you saw the first couple of times."

Dean frowned. No, he didn't know that. "What do you mean?" He set the box of rice down on the table and picked the phone up. Taking it off speaker, Dean pressed the device up to his ear.

"They're rumored to be the ghosts of old giants. When they come back that third time, they are powerful. They can make themselves grow to be the size of trees. That and their ability to cast spells is a lot stronger. You've got one pissed off creature out there now."

Fuck. How'd they miss that in their research? "Okay. Any suggestions? I was gonna go with burning Pinocchio. Just gotta figure out how to slow it down enough to put a flame under its ass. I was planning on going back to where it's been hiding out. I found its little stash of stolen jewelry yesterday."

"Crap. You found the thing's treasure? Did you touch it?"

"Well, I-" Dean started, but was cut off.

"Dammit, Dean. If he knows where you are, you better watch yourself. He'll be gunnin' for you. They don't like people touching their treasure. They have some kind of special attachment to it." Bobby paused and gave a heavy sigh. It was too late to continue to yell at Dean now. "Well, anyway, there's no real trick to taking it down. Fire or iron will do it. Salt and holy water don't do much, except slow 'em down during the first two stages of their life. What he is now, you better hope you've got luck on your side, boy."

"Awesome. Anything else I should know?"

"Just be careful, Dean. Sam and me, we can't lose you a second time."

"Yeah, you know me. Caution's my middle name." Dean stood up from the table and went to lean against the counter. "I'm gonna go see Sam in the morning. I'll tell him you said hi. I'll be heading out after that. I'll call you when things are all set here. Okay?"

"Alright, Dean. I'll talk to you soon."

They hung up. Dean just stood there, not moving. Damn. This hunt was going to be loads of fun. He could just feel it.

Dean hadn't quite lost his appetite so he picked up his plastic dish of Sweet & Sour Chicken along with the bottle of J.D. and went to sit down on the bed so he could watch some television before he crashed for the night.

* * *

The Spriggan waited in the tree line for the right opportunity to slay one of the cows. This would be the last one on this farm. Once he eliminated the hunter, he decided he would move on. This place was tainted now with the stench of humans. His land had been tread upon and his treasure had been touched. It was time to leave.

After making his sacrifice to the gods, the creature would search for the human. If the man was still at the same place as before, it wouldn't be long. Smiling at the thought of ending Dean's life, he laughed a bitter and harsh laugh. The noise echoed through the forest. Any animal nearby, whether deer or beetle, scurried away hurriedly to find shelter.

It was time to make his kill. The Spriggan bolted through the field, eying his next target.

* * *

Dean lay sprawled out on the bed, stomach full and whiskey bottle in hand. It was still early enough in the evening that he wasn't tired. He glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only 8:47 p.m.

He flipped through the channels on the TV. As he did, he gave some more thought to the Spriggan and how he was going to go about killing it. If he were to be honest with himself, he had nothing at the moment. The earlier conversation with Bobby disturbed Dean. This thing was getting way out of hand. Doubt about his ability to take down the creature started to seep into his mind. Dean pushed it away almost as quickly as it began. No. He could do this.

But what Sam had said earlier kept sneaking into Dean's thoughts. "_Did it ever occur to you that maybe the thing let you kill it this last time? Maybe it wanted to come back stronger_." Was the Spriggan that smart? If it was, Dean would have to watch himself if he wanted to come out of this alive.

The next confrontation would be between only himself and the Elemental…tete-a-tete. There would be nothing there to sidetrack the creature this time. All eyes would be on Dean and he knew it. Sam had good reason to worry about his brother. Dean took another swig from the bottle in his hand as he watched a rerun of some old cop drama from the '80s. (They were so much cooler back then.)

Fire… Dean thought about it. Matches, flame throwers…hell, flare guns. Hadn't they used them on a Wendigo a few years back? That was certainly an idea. But as he mentioned to Bobby, he would have to figure out how to slow the creature down long enough to light it up.

Dean lay back on the pillows and attempted to formulate a plan in his mind. He would go back to the woods tomorrow and face whatever lay ahead.

* * *

The evening became night, and from there it slowly turned into early dawn. Only hours ago, the creature had completed his sacrifice to the gods. Now he would have to wait for them to provide, make him strong again, for his energy was waning. He would need the strength to confront the virile, young hunter. Because of this wait, the man would have one more day to live. When the time finally came, it would bring the creature satisfaction when he saw the blood dripping from Dean's dead body.

The Spriggan knew he would have to go somewhere other than the ruins while he waited for his gods, for his old home was no longer safe. The humans knew he was there now. Thoughts of the place Dean would likely being staying at came to mind. The creature would find somewhere between the forest and his destination to recoup while the sun was high. He gave one last look to the trees behind him and turned to leave. Soon he would find a new dwelling, and new treasures.

* * *

Dean groaned when he opened his eyes the next morning. He had polished off the bottle of whiskey last night. It just sorta happened; he had been bored. But it _had _helped him fall asleep. Now though, it wasn't helping him wake up. The glaring numbers on the clock read 9:14 a.m. Shit. He was surprised Sam hadn't called looking for him.

Coffee. That was the one word on his mind as he sat up and pushed the covers off. Dean ran a hand up through his hair and stood up. He was going to have to deal with Sam this morning and he knew the man was going to give him a hard time about finishing up this hunt. It wasn't something the elder Winchester was looking forward to. His brother worried just a bit too much about things sometimes.

Shower first, and then Sam. He had just had a shower last night, but he needed another to help wake himself up. Dean collected his shower kit and some moderately clean clothes before heading off to the bathroom.

* * *

The door to the Impala gave a loud squeak as Dean closed it. He looked up at the looming building in front of him, squinting his eyes against the bright morning sun. Sam was somewhere in there…waiting. Dean sighed, his fingers tightening on the paper bag that he held in his hand. He started walking toward the visitor's entrance.

Several minutes later, Dean turned the corner and stepped through the doorway into Sam's room. A portable dining table was pushed off to the side. On it were the remains of some toast and something yellow that must have passed for eggs. An empty plastic cup sat next to it. His brother was reading a magazine and looked up when Dean came in.

"Oh, hey, Dean." Sam closed the magazine and put it down in his lap.

"I see they're feeding you well." Dean nodded at the tray beside the bed, making a face as he did. "If you still have room, I brought you something better." He waggled an eyebrow and smiled as he brought the hidden bag out from behind his back. He set it down next to the half-empty plate and pulled a coffee cup and a donut out. "Coffee's just the way you like it, triple cream and half a cup of sugar. Thought you might like a donut, too."

Sam's face lit up as he accepted the cup and donut from Dean. "Oh, god, thank you." He took a large swallow of the coffee, followed by a sasquatch-sized bite from the donut. Sam spoke as he chewed. "I'm so hungry. After you left last night, they wouldn't give me anything but Jello, saying something about my meds and getting sick."

Dean took his jacket off, threw it on the foot of the bed, and then took a seat in the same sickly-colored chair from yesterday. He watched as his brother scarfed the donut down in less than four bites then took another big gulp of his coffee. It was nice to know he could still make the man smile. His brother had dealt with so much in the last year and a half…a whole four months of which Dean was in Hell (or forty years depending on whose point of view it was).

"So how ya feelin'?" Dean saw that the I.V. was still running into Sam's hand and the nasal cannula was still in place, but the heart rate monitor was gone now.

Sam took a sip of his coffee. "I'm good, maybe a little tired, but it's just from the shock. I'll live." Sam became quiet again and started to thumb the corner of the magazine in his lap. He knew Dean was going back out after the Spriggan when he was done here.

Dean noticed his brother's fidgeting. "Sam…?"

"I know, Dean. I just really would rather you didn't go out there alone. I feel useless sitting here." Sam glanced out the door at some people walking by, other visitors probably, and then looked back at his brother. "What if something happens and no one finds you? What then?"

Dean shifted in his seat and looked out the window. He wasn't going to bring up the conversation with Bobby from last night. It would just make things worse. He looked back at Sam. "Look, I know you're worried. Don't be. I've got a plan."

Sam's expression was skeptical. "Oh, yeah. And what's that."

Dean's mouth moved, but he didn't say anything. He blinked and swallowed. "I'm working on it. Alright? I'm a spontaneous kind of guy." A smile appeared on his face; it was covering the anxiety. He really didn't come up with much last night before he fell asleep.

That wasn't what Sam wanted to hear. "Maybe you could call Cas-"

Oh, yeah. Sam was getting desperate. Dean cut his brother off before he could finish the name. "No, Sam. I don't need his help, or any other angel's for that matter." Dean stood up from the chair and started pacing the small room. "I've had enough holy intervention to last me a lifetime. They've been using me as their hand puppet for so long now that my ass is starting to hurt. Isn't yours? Anyway, this probably isn't part of their so-called 'devine prophesy'. We were lucky Cas even bothered to help rescue you from Lilith when all that shit went down a few weeks ago."

Dean didn't want to think about their feathered friend. The conversation from the hospital after getting his ass kicked by Alistair still weighed heavily on Dean's shoulders. It was the night Cas had confirmed that the elder Winchester had actually started the whole damn apocalypse. And the angel had also said it was up to Dean to save the world. Could a guy be put under any more pressure than that?

"Dean…"

Dean was standing by the window when he broke away from his thoughts. "I said no, Sam. And that's final."

The silence that followed Dean's words felt like forever. And it was far from the comfortable silence that the two men shared from time to time.

Finally, Dean turned to face the room…and his brother. He needed to get out of there. Hanging out here with Sam would just create more friction. "You need anything before I leave?" He picked his jacket up from the bed, getting ready to leave.

Sam frowned and let out a heavy sigh. "No, I don't." He knew he had no choice but to give up and let Dean do what he was going to do. There was no stopping his stubborn brother. Sam looked Dean in the eyes. "Just watch yourself, Dean." He glanced down to his lap, and then back up to his brother. "Don't get yourself killed. We might have our issues, but I still need you."

Dean stopped at the doorway and looked at Sam. He knew it took a lot for the young man to admit that, especially lately. "I'll call you later," Dean said as he turned and left the room.

* * *

Nestled into a thicket not too far from the motel, the Spriggan woke up briefly from his sleep, and then closed his eyes again. He could feel the power from the gods seeping into his body. It was a refreshing sensation and he sighed as he lay in the pile of dead leaves he had gathered up that morning when he arrived. A few more hours and he would be ready.

* * *

Dean drove straight past the motel. The Weathers' farm was about twenty minutes south of it and he wanted to have as much daylight as possible to get this done. He was singing along to Working Man by Rush when he just barely heard his phone ring. Dean reached over and turned the volume down before answering.

"Hello?"

"Dean, this is Joss. It's happened again." The man sounded both pissed off and defeated at the same time.

"I'm on my way there now. Do you know when it happened?" Dean pressed down on the accelerator. This needed to end now before someone other than a couple of cows and Sam got hurt.

"We're pretty sure it was last night. But we just found out this morning when we saw one of the cows was missing from the barn." He paused. "I was sidetracked when we brought the cows in. One of my tractors was down and I needed it for today. I didn't notice or I would have called you then. This just needs to stop. It's been such a horrible year for us."

"Sam and I won't be leaving town until it's fixed. Just hang in there. I should be there in about ten minutes."

They said goodbye and Dean hung up. Dean wasn't a farm boy, nor was he a big cow person, but he _did _feel bad for the cows. No animal deserved to go down like that. They were just as innocent as any person they had saved.

* * *

Joss met Dean at the car when he pulled up. "With Sam still in the hospital, I was thinking you could use another set of eyes out there. I'd rather be out there helping than sitting around here letting you do something I should be capable of doing."

"Joss, this isn't just some coyote. It's evil and it won't hesitate killing me or you. You've got a family and they don't want to lose you. My brother…" Shit. Dean turned his eyes away quickly, hoping the man didn't notice the slip. Joss wasn't supposed to know Sam was his brother.

The farmer eyed Dean. "Who are you really? I asked you yesterday and you wouldn't tell me. Department of Agriculture, my ass. I've known something was up since you two ran off into the woods yesterday with that bag full of weapons. Yeah, I was out here in the yard and saw you. And this beauty of a car? No state department has their men driving one of these." He wasn't mad; he was curious.

So much for the front, but Dean couldn't help briefly smiling at the compliment on Baby. "Sam and I, we don't tell people who we are and what we do because it keeps them safe. We hunt things like this pest you have. It sorta runs in our family."

"Okay. And what exactly is this 'pest'?" Joss was taking the information in stride.

"It's an Elemental, a nature spirit. And he's a fucking mean little shit." Dean frowned. Since Joss now knew who they were, Dean decided to start packing his supplies. The clock was ticking and they were just standing around talking. He went to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

Joss gave a low whistle when Dean braced the weapons compartment lid open with the shotgun like he always did. "That's quite a stash you got there. I guess you're not kidding."

"Well, we gotta be prepared for just about anything," Dean said as he checked the weapons duffel to see what he needed. Most of the things he wanted were still in it from yesterday…flame thrower, crow bar, holy water, salt, Sam's iron knives, the first aid kit and a couple of shotguns. He removed one of the shotguns and a canister of salt, replacing them with a flashlight, two flare guns and a small can of lighter fluid. Finding some matches, Dean slipped them into the front pocket of his coat. He patted the small of his back to make sure his Colt was still safely hidden away under his jacket; the touch was reassuring. That should be enough, he thought.

Dean looked up at Joss when he was done. The man hadn't said a word as he watched Dean handle the weapons with ease. "I'm sorry, but you need to stay here. I appreciate the offer, but I can't be watching your back, too. Sam's a hundred times more qualified than you and look what happened." He shouldered his bag and closed the trunk. "If I'm not back in touch with you by, I don't know, eight o'clock, you know where to find Sam. He's under the name Sam Jones at the hospital. He'll know what to do." Dean pulled his gun out and looked over at Joss. The man was taking things fairly well considering. "I'll be back later. Hopefully I'll have good news."

"Yeah, okay. Be safe out there." Joss watched as Dean turned and strode off across the field. The guy was either insane or dangerous as all hell. The farmer was glad the man was on his side as he watched him grow smaller in the distance.

* * *

Dean made good time getting to the ruins in the forest. He let his bag drop to the ground and spun slowly, searching the trees. The place felt lighter somehow, like a heavy darkness had receded. The hunter noticed the greenery in the old house was turning brown. He lifted his brow in curiosity. That wasn't a good sign.

Cautiously, Dean walked up to the house and looked inside. Sure enough, the plants were dying. Had the Spriggan left? If so, where did it go? Was it out there looking for Dean like Bobby had said? Had it even come back from the other realm in the first place? There was no way for Dean to know.

If the creature had left, Sam and Dean would have to wait until it struck again before they could find it. Dean was less than happy about not finding it there, but he kept his guard up. He left the house and walked around the area, avoiding the place where Sam had fallen yesterday. Dean could still see the dark crimson stain the ground.

He decided to stick around for a while. If the Spriggan had yet to come back through his doorway, it could happen at any moment. If it was looking for Dean when it came back, then what better place to wait for it? Dean found a large boulder, sat down on it, and waited. After an hour or so, he got up to stretch. His ass was killing him from sitting on the hard surface. He was getting bored, too.

The sun was starting to move westward in the sky and nothing happened. Dammit. Dean wanted to get this over with. He looked around and sighed. Pulling up the sleeve of his jacket, Dean checked the time. It was a little after two o'clock. There were roughly four and a half more hours before the sun would set. He kicked his booted foot into the dirt and decided to scope out the surrounding woods. Maybe there was a cave or something, somewhere else the little monster might be hiding during the day.

Dean managed on burning almost three hours searching the forest…and that was taking his sweet ol' time. He came back to the rock and sat down again. Reaching into his coat, Dean pulled his flask out, unscrewed the lid, and took a long swallow. He'd stay until after sundown and then he'd call it quits. He was pretty sure it would be a waste of time, but you never could be sure in this line of work.

* * *

Dean looked at his watch again; it was just after seven. The sun had set roughly an hour ago. There wasn't a sound in the woods except for the crickets and the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze that was starting to pick up. From the way it already felt, it was going to be a cold one tonight. Dean rubbed his hands together and blew into them, trying to warm them. He had just come back from doing another large circle of the ruins. There was nothing. So the good news was, the Spriggan appeared to have left; the bad news, he didn't have any idea where it had gone. Maybe it was scared of dying that third and final time and ran.

"I always knew Pinocchio was a wimp," Dean mumbled as he leaned over to pick his duffel up and slung it over his shoulder. He aimed the flashlight toward the stream and started walking back to the farmhouse.

The trek back to the house was quiet. Dean made it to the Impala without stepping in any cow pies. That seemed to be an accomplishment in and of itself on a cattle farm. It took him less than five minutes to get his gear stowed away. Now came the part where he'd have to tell the Weathers' that he didn't, or rather couldn't, finish the job. It wasn't something he was proud of. Very rarely did the Winchesters have the "one that got away".

* * *

Nighttime had arrived. It was time.

The Spriggan's deadly, green eyes almost glowed in the darkness when he opened them. Taking in a deep breath, he felt the power within and smiled at the renewed sensation. He was ready to take on the hunter now. The human wouldn't live to see the sun tomorrow. He giggled.

Suddenly, the Elemental heard a familiar sound from not too far away. He hopped out of the thicket, making sure to keep himself blended in with his surroundings, and ran. A moment later he stood at the roadside. The creature narrowed his eyes and perked up his ears. Two bright, white lights were heading his way. A low rumble approached and it tickled his memory. It was the big, black chariot that the hunter rode in. Perhaps he could catch another ride…

He giggled again.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean dialed Sam's number a few miles down the road from the Weathers' farm. He might as well call and let his brother know the Spriggan had vacated the premises and that the hunt was still on. It would at least allow Sam to get a good night's rest if he knew Dean was alright.

It was one of those nights where everyone would always make the comment "It sure is dark out tonight". The desolate road from the country into town was nearly pitch black, even at this hour; the fields to both sides of the car were lost in the darkness. Dean put the high beams on to get a better view of the road ahead as he waited for Sam to pick up the phone.

"Dean?" Sam answered.

"Yeah, Sam. It's me."

Sam could hear the sounds of the Impala in the background. He sighed a breath of relief. "You got him?"

"Ah, well, no."

"No? What happened, Dean? Are you okay?" His brother didn't sound injured, but Dean was good at covering things up. Not that Sam was so sure the elder Winchester would tell him the truth.

"It was gone. It either didn't come back or it just up and left. There's no way to know for sure." Dean slowed the Impala down. There were some tight turns out here and he didn't need to kill himself by going off into a ditch. "I did a thorough search of the woods, too. There was nothing. I just left the place. It sucks having to tell someone we couldn't finish the job."

"Well, I shouldn't say this, but I'm happy he wasn't around. Going after that thing alone wasn't a good idea."

"What the hell else was I supposed to do, Sam? We don't hide from shit like this, we hunt it." Dean swerved the car to avoid a pot hole. He was trying to keep himself in check. "Look, I'm heading back to the motel for the rest of the night. I'll-"

Something suddenly jumped out into the road in front of the car and Dean stomped on the brakes. "Holy shit!" The phone fell from his hand to the floor. The thing was heading his way. Dean had a bad feeling he knew what it was.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came from the phone, but Dean didn't hear it. "Dean, what's going on? Are you alight? Dean!" Sam's concerned calls went unanswered.

* * *

Sam didn't hang up. He'd give Dean a chance to get back on the line. It could've been something as simple as a tire blowout and his brother needed both hands on the wheel. Sam could hear the screeching of tires locking up on the asphalt.

He could also hear Dean saying something, but couldn't make it out. His brother sounded angry though. All he could do was listen.

Suddenly, there was the sound of glass shattering and his brother yelled out, causing Sam to instantly panic.

"Dean!"

* * *

Dean stared at the Spriggan (at least that's what he assumed it was) as it approached the car. As Bobby had said, it looked _nothing _like its former self. This creature wasn't just ugly anymore; it was a thing from nightmares.

He threw the car into park and reached around for his Colt. It still had several more iron rounds in it. But before he was able to bring the weapon around and take aim, the creature jumped onto the hood of the car. It pressed its horrid face up against the windshield and sneered. Its beady, green eyes stared at Dean; they were full of hostile intent.

Dean's eyes widened as the Elemental grew from its new height of a couple of feet to man-sized. The hood of the car groaned in protest from the heavier weight and Dean could hear the paint being scratched from its sharp, wooden limbs.

"Dude, you're scratching the fucking paint!" Dean's jaw clenched. If he survived this, Baby was gonna need some new paint…and wasn't that just great.

He barely finished shouting at the Spriggan when it broke through the glass with its fist and, in the blink of an eye, grabbed Dean around the neck. It yanked hard, pulling Dean out of the driver's seat and through the broken windshield. He gasped, dropping his gun, and tore at the wooden digits squeezing at his throat.

The Spriggan giggled. In Dean's mind, he knew he was going to die hearing that god-awful sound. His body dangled from the tight grip. The Elemental leapt off the hood of the car and landed several feet away, still keeping his hold on the hunter. Dean's mind started to fog up from lack of oxygen and he was beginning to see spots.

And then Dean was harshly thrown down to the ground. He pushed himself up on all fours and took several long ragged breaths, and then he looked over his shoulder at the monster. It just stood there with a sharp-fanged smile on its face. It was toying with Dean, like a cat and its mouse. After a minute of composing himself, Dean stood up on shaky legs; he didn't think anything was broken. The hunter stared defiantly at the Spriggan. It only stared back and tilted its head to the side, almost as if it was studying him.

Dean glanced over at the car. He couldn't help but cringe when he saw the scratched and dented hood, as well as the broken windshield. His Colt was there somewhere. If he could get to the vehicle and find it… Dean looked back at the creature. It had yet to move. It was waiting. God, he hated it when they did that. He always preferred when they moved first. At least then he'd have an idea as to what they were going to do. It was the whole hunter/prey thing. Dean knew he was the prey tonight. He swallowed, took a breath, and made a run for it.

About halfway there, Dean dove, hitting the ground in a roll. He reached for the door handle. Just as his fingers tightened around it, he felt sharp claws digging into his left calf. It was a blinding, white hot pain and he cried out in sheer agony. Dean held onto the door handle as if it could save his life. If only he could get the door open and find his gun.

The Spriggan continued to pull at Dean until the man's grip slipped from the car. No. Nononono… Dean didn't want to go down this way. He briefly pictured his tombstone: 'Dean Winchester, 1979 – 2009, Beloved Brother, Killed by a Pissed Off and Angry Tree'.

"Let me go you friggin' piece of crap!" Dean kicked at the thing's hand with his right foot, trying to dislodge the nails from his leg; his left leg was starting to grow numb. There was no getting it to let go. It lifted Dean and dangled him upside down over the road…and grew. The ground below Dean got farther and farther away. The searing pain in his leg got worse as the nails widened in proportion to the creature's growth.

Finally, the Spriggan stopped his magical growth spurt. Dean's vision was blurring from the pain he was in, but he got the idea that he was some five to ten feet from the earth below. Yeah, Dean was starting to agree with Sam. This job really needed two people.

"So help me when this is over, I'm never going in the woods again. No more nature shit, not even a granola bar," Dean mumbled to himself as he bent at the waist and tried to reach up into his boot. He had his small knife sheathed there for emergencies. It was silver and wouldn't do much, but maybe if he was lucky, it would get the thing to let go. In the back of Dean's mind, he knew it was going to hurt when he hit the ground, but it would be better than being just plain dead.

* * *

Sam yanked the I.V. from his hand and pulled the nasal cannula from his nose. He needed to get to Dean. His brother had brought in a fresh set of clothes for him yesterday and Sam changed into them as quickly as he could. He would steal a car and get to Dean. The man would more than likely be on the country road near the Weathers' farm from what he had gathered from their earlier conversation.

He was just leaning over to pull his second shoe on when he suddenly felt something was wrong. A sharp, stabbing pain started to develop in his chest, making its way to his shoulder and back. It jolted Sam straight up. The ache became worse as he breathed. Oh, no, he thought to himself. Not now. He tried to take a breath, but it hurt. Dammit! As the seconds went by, his breath became too short. Sam must have aggravated the hole in his lung from moving around too much. His lung was collapsing again.

Sam dropped down onto his back on the bed and tried to breathe. The oxygen wasn't fully making it in and he was starting to feel a little light-headed. He closed his eyes. Dean was going to die out there and here he was, dying from a fucking collapsed lung. Good ol' Winchester luck. That's what this was.

* * *

The Spriggan was enjoying this. He watched as Dean struggled futilely in his grasp. There was time before he tore the hunter to pieces. He liked to watch the fear in the man's eyes. Dean knew he was going to die. There was nothing the human could do.

He kept himself from growing overly large, for it would help to conserve his strength. There was no reason to overdo it. It would allow him to play with his toy all that much longer. The Elemental had already drawn blood and he liked the smell of it.

Dean was yelling and trying to pull his nails from his leg, but the creature ignored him. He only squeezed harder and gave the man another small shake, giggling when the hunter cried out again. Yes, this was so much fun. Maybe in the future he would start hunting humans instead of dumb animals. They were so much more interesting when they tried to resist.

He swiped a sharp nail across Dean's stomach and smiled when the man yelled and tried to curl up from the pain. Another slash along the human's side resulted in another blood-curdling cry being released from between the man's lips.

The Spriggan giggled. Yes, this was rather enjoyable.

* * *

Sam was nearly unconscious. The nurses on the floor were small in number this late in the evening and he knew they weren't due to make their rounds again for a while. His eyes remained closed as he struggled to breathe in what little air he could. The call button was too far up on the bed for him to gain access to. This was it. The remaining two Winchesters were going to be but a memory after tonight.

It felt like hours had passed when Sam heard a soft fluttering noise in the room. At this point, he figured he was imagining things. Weird things happened to you when you were suffocating to death.

But then Sam felt a soft touch to his forehead and suddenly he felt…okay? He opened his eyes and standing at the foot of the bed next to him was Castiel…in trench coat, crooked tie, and all. "Cas?" He blinked. Then his brow creased. "But how-"

"There is no time," the angel said in his low, gravelly voice. Castiel glanced at Sam's shoeless foot. "Finish clothing yourself. We must leave…now." The man looked up and tilted his head as if he was listening for something.

"I need to get to Dean. He's in trouble," Sam said as he quickly pulled his other shoe on and grabbed his jacket as he stood up from the bed.

"I know. That's why I'm here." Castiel looked up to the ceiling again, and then back down to Sam. "If they find out I've come..." He left the sentence hanging. "I can take you to him, but that is all."

Before Sam could protest, Castiel pressed two fingers to his forehead. He blinked his eyes and then he was standing in the middle of a dark road. Roughly thirty feet in front of Sam was the Impala. In front of the car, lit up in the headlights of the vehicle, was a sight that stirred him into immediate action. Sam didn't even look to see if Cas had come with him or not.

The Spriggan was what Sam guestimated to be about fifteen feet tall and was dangling Dean upside down over the road. Thankfully, the creature hadn't noticed his sudden appearance.

Sam stooped low and moved quickly over to the car. The trunk was closed so he couldn't access the weapons compartment and Sam didn't have his Taurus on him. Dean had probably taken it back when the younger Winchester was first attacked by the Elemental. Sam hoped that maybe the keys were still in the ignition since the fact that the headlights were still on led him to believe Dean didn't have much time to do anything before the Spriggan had attacked.

He sidled alongside the car and immediately saw the source of the sound of shattering glass that he had heard earlier. Shit. The windshield was completely busted out. And then Sam saw the weapons duffel sitting on the backseat. "Oh, thank god," he whispered as he did his best to open the car door with as little noise as possible. Times like these were when he really wished Dean would oil the hinges on the doors, but his brother had always refused saying it was part of "Baby's charm".

Unzipping the bag, Sam pulled it open. He dug around looking for the best weapon to use against the creature. Apparently, Dean was looking to burn the sucker because the bag was loaded with everything they had that could light something up. Sam saw the two flare guns. They would allow him to attack from a distance which is what he needed. He grabbed them and pulled himself from the car.

Dean must've been in pain because in between the low growls and excruciating giggles, Sam could hear his brother moan. But, in between the moans, and this made Sam smile, Dean was still there enough to verbally continue to rip the Spriggan apart. Good ol' Dean.

Sam stepped up from around the car, aiming one of the flare guns high. "Hey!" he called out. Both the Elemental and Dean stopped their taunting of each other and looked down at Sam. Sam squeezed the trigger and watched as the flare shot out and hit the Spriggan directly in the chest.

For a second, the creature just looked down at Sam, eyes wide in surprise at seeing him, and then it looked at Dean again. He glared in hatred at the human. Suddenly, the Spriggan let out a howl that probably could have awoken the whole countryside. Its body trembled and its back arched as the flare did its work. The creature's grip on Dean released and the hunter started falling to the ground. Dean yelled and tucked into himself, bracing for impact.

Sam saw the creature let go of Dean and ran forward. If he could break his brother's fall, he might be okay. Sam got there just in time for Dean to crash into him and they both fell into a heap on the ground with grunts and groans.

The wail above became louder. Sam took a chance and glanced up through the tangle of limbs and saw a bright glow emanating from deep within the Spriggan. "Dean, we gotta get away from it!" He stood, hauling Dean up with him and lugged his limping brother back toward the Impala.

What sounded like a freight train roared through the air and suddenly there was an explosion so intense it blew the brothers from their feet as they made to round the corner behind the car. They both stumbled to the ground amidst splinters and shards of wood flying through the air.

Sam was lying flat on his stomach when all had quieted. He turned his head to look back over his shoulder and the Spriggan was gone. The road looked like a lumber truck had tipped over. Wood was everywhere. He glanced back at Dean. The man was out.

Getting up to his knees, Sam looked down at his brother. Dean's face had an eerie, red glow to it from the tail lights of the car. Sam's eyes traveled down over Dean's body and all he could see were dark stains…blood. Dean's left pant leg was covered in it, all the way up to his thigh, and his shirt was soaked. Sam shook his head. He hoped Cas had gotten him there in time. "Hey, Dean." He lightly shook the man. There was a quiet moan before Dean's eyes slowly blinked open.

Dean heard someone calling to him. It took a minute for him to focus, but…was that Sam? He thought he remembered seeing a flash of his brother standing below the Spriggan. "Sammy? How'd you get here?"

Sam lifted the darkened material of Dean's shirt to see what the damage was. "Cas sent me here." The cut on Dean's abdomen didn't look too bad, but there were several more long and mean-looking wounds on his brother's chest and sides. He would have to check them out back at the room to see how deep they were. You couldn't judge a book by its cover when it came to injuries. Many times, the damage wasn't as bad as the amount of blood seemed to call for. But Dean's leg on the other hand… Well, Sam had seen how the creature had been holding his brother. He knew that was going to be a mess.

Dean managed to lift an eyebrow. "Cas was here? Well, hell." He closed his eyes and smiled. He would owe the angel one.

"You think you can get up?" Sam got up to his feet and reached a hand out to help Dean.

"Um…" Dean tried to push himself up, but it didn't work out too well. "Nope." His head thumped back down to the asphalt. Dean winced having forgotten about the hard surface he was currently laying on. He hurt. His whole leg was numb by now and the cuts on his upper body protested at any movement. He was also light-headed. Whether it was from all the blood rushing to his head from being held upside down for so long or the loss of blood, he wasn't sure…and his mind wasn't quite there enough to figure it out.

Sam frowned before getting down to help Dean to his feet. That wasn't a good sign. Sam could probably count on one hand how many times his brother actually admitted he was down for the count. But there was nothing he could do in the middle of the road in the dark. "Come on, I got you. It's just a couple of feet to the car."

* * *

He must have passed out because Dean woke up to find himself in a bed surrounded by the familiar sights of the motel room. The lamp beside the bed was turned on and he could see Sam sleeping in the other bed.

Dean looked down at himself and saw that he was stripped down to nothing except for a fresh pair of boxer briefs. The wounds on his chest and stomach were covered in fresh, white gauze. Sam obviously had fixed him up while he was out, and for that, he was very appreciative. He wasn't feeling too bad either which meant that somehow his brother had to have gotten some kind of pain meds into him.

Dean looked down at his leg. He knew the limb had received the worst of the damage.

"You may need to go to the hospital for that." Dean jumped when he heard Sam start talking and looked over to the other bed. "I did the best I could, but the Spriggan's claws went right down to the bone. There's a risk of infection."

The elder Winchester groaned at the thought. "Awesome." Dean shifted to sit up a little on the pillows behind him, but winced at the pull of stitches in his torso. He decided to stay put.

"Things could be a lot worse, you know," Sam said from across the three feet of space between the two beds.

"Is it dead?" That's all Dean wanted to know right now…that this hunt was over.

"Yeah, it's dead."

"Good, otherwise I was gonna turn Pinocchio into chopsticks for fucking up my car. Did you see what he did to Baby?"

Sam laughed as he reached over to turn off the light. "Goodnight, Dean."


End file.
